


Best Wishes

by Anonymous



Category: Original Work
Genre: Casual Sex, Character of Color, Disabled Character, Drug Addiction, F/M, messy relationships, no easy outs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-01
Updated: 2011-09-02
Packaged: 2017-10-17 10:45:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/176048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was more frustrating than anything else - the wanting to move and being unable to. The expensive modifications he had to have done on his house and car, the way people acted around him. Like he wasn’t the same anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome To Best Wishes

 

Angel Swanson   **//**   Dean Park

Hart Dufrense   **//**   Sarah Lighten

Jeremy Lowe

Francine Noel

 

\-----

 

I guess you could say that they’ve known each other their whole lives. But it was in the way that only people from places too big to be called towns, and too little to be called cities, could claim. A vaguely remembered seating assignment, that time he’d helped change her tire after Homecoming, a half-read Op-Ed in The Standard about one of the first of our “Home Town Boys” being sent off to war. 

 

Angel Swanson stared down at the credit card of someone who’d left it on the bar of a club. The same boy who sat exactly three seats behind and one to the left of her in Mrs. Jasper’s third grade class, as she read _The True Story Of the Three Little Pigs_ aloud. It had been five years since she’d last seen him but she wondered if he still had that unconscious aloofness, that quiet smugness.  

 

She chewed her pancakes slowly, just like Grandma taught her, before swallowing and throwing on a white cardigan over a lemon yellow sundress and a pair of wedge heels. There were only three places that people usually worked around here. The Wal-Mart on Stanford, one of the fast-food places on Brown, or at _The Cherry On Top_ on Wellesley.

 

Since _she_ worked at the latter, that left only two options.   

 

Angel stood and looked around her sparse kitchen, deciding she’d drop by Wal-Mart first. She needed to pick up a few things anyway.  

 

\---

 

She heard about it a while ago of course, nothing that big could have avoided at least an honorable mention in the town’s rumor mill, but this was the first time she had ever actually seen him in it.  

 

Angel remembered him as a 6’ tall football player, the guy who dated the same girl all through school, and who had even gotten a grant to go to the state’s satellite college campus one town over before he’d been sent off to the Middle East.  He was stocking the only kind of books Wal-Mart seemed to carry, romance, when he noticed her and asked, “Can I help you,” without turning around.  

 

It took her a moment to answer, entranced as she was by the sparkling spokes on his wheelchair, and when she looked up he was looking back at her with knowing eyes. She felt her face heat up. “Hi.” 

 

He shot her a strange smile and narrowed eyes. “Hello.” 

 

She realized then that he didn’t recognize her. “We went to school together. We even shared a class once, Mrs. Jasper’s…” 

 

“Right,” he said quickly, “Angel. I knew you looked familiar.” 

 

She nodded and said, “Sure,” before continuing, “well, you forgot your credit card.” 

 

“Excuse me?” 

 

She fumbled through her purse. “Your credit card. You forgot it at the club last night.” She pulled it from a side compartment before handing it over.  It was his turn to look embarrassed as he rolled the chair forward and took it from her hand.

 

“I did?” 

 

She nodded. “On the bar.”  They stood across from one another for a beat before she smiled awkwardly. “I’ll see you around then,” and turned on her heel, ready for this to be over and already thinking of the things she needed to buy. 

 

“I never go there you know,” he called out behind her. 

 

She turned back, “Oh, of course.” 

 

“Really,” he qualified as if that would make her believe him. “One of my friends dragged me in. Sarah would’ve never liked me going there.” He rolled closer. “You remember Sarah right?” 

 

She shrugged, as if she wasn’t sure, even though she was. “I guess?” 

 

“Well, we dated all through school.” A weird look crossed his face before he shook his head and looked back at her with a smile, but it was different than the one he’d given her before.

 

“It didn’t really work out between us.” 

 

She looked at him with wide eyes, and replied, “Oh, I’m sorry,” trying to sound interested, even though she didn’t really understand why he was sharing all of this with her in the first place. They were never friends.  

 

He watched her with a anxious grin,  as though he was waiting for her to update him on her life, but she was quiet so long that he turned and wheeled himself back to the shelf where she’d found him. “I’ll see you around, then.” 

 

“Sure,” she replied, looking down one of the aisles next to them and adding socks to her mental grocery list. “Let’s keep in touch.” 

 

“You should give me your number then.” 

 

She looked back to find him watching her with an earnest intensity. He’d be high maintenance, she could already tell. One of those people who called more than once a day, and got mad if you didn’t pick up the phone. That was why Angel didn’t have a lot of friends, she’d always been better at getting a relationship started than she was at keeping one going.  

 

The desire to say no flitted across her mind, but she shrugged it off, pulled a pen and a piece of paper from her purse, and replied, “Of course,” as she wrote it down and handed it to him. 

 

He slid it into his pocket with a look she couldn’t decipher before she said, “Goodbye,” and walked away. She wouldn’t hold her breath waiting to hear from him though.

 

She had a feeling he wouldn’t be calling.  

 

\---

 

“You’re late.” 

 

Angel grimaced at the scratchy sound of Mr. Gerber’s voice at her back. She turned to see him sitting on a stool with a cigarette in one hand, and the day’s cash in the other. 

 

“Only by,” she looked down at her phone, “five minutes.” 

 

“Miss by an inch, miss by a mile.”  She put her hands on her hips and smiled coyly.

 

“I don’t think that saying really works in this situation.” 

 

He just stared back at her until she stopped trying to flirt to get out from under his punishment. “I ‘oughta dock your pay.” 

 

“For five minutes?” she asked incredulously. 

 

“For being late for your shift? Yes.”  Angel opened her mouth to say something smart in reply, but snapped it shut with an audible click instead. The only thing talking back would get her was fired, and there was no place left to go except Burger King. She shivered, there was no way she was going back to making $800 a month when she could pull that in a night or two here.  She straightened her spine and turned on her interview voice. “Of course, whatever you feel is necessary.” 

 

He watched her for a moment before looking back down. “Next time.” 

 

She took a breath, felt like a weight had been lifted from her chest. “Thank you.” 

 

“Get to work, then,” he replied gruffly as she walked back to the stage over a slightly sticky floor and turned into the long, dark hallway off the side of it. 

 

 _The Cherry On Top_ had been Best Wishes premier gentlemen’s club since its opening 15 years ago.  Maybe because it was the _only_ gentlemen’s club, but the little pit she now called home had staying power. It was housed in a squat, stucco grey building with the ever classy **Girls, Girls, Girls** flashing neon sign and kicking leg out front to lure in passersby from the highway.  

 

She heard the others dancers giggling before she opened the door and found them in a tight group against one wall watching their bouncer/DJ/bartender move a heavy trunk from one side of the room to the other. He stood up and raised the hem of his shirt to wipe his brow when he finished, setting off another round of laughter.  Angel rolled her eyes good naturedly and went to sit at her station. 

 

“You coming tonight?” Charity asked quietly. 

 

She looked at her and brushed out her hair. Charity Smith called herself Mysterious on stage, which had always made Angel laugh. Ninety percent of their patrons, like everyone in this room, had been born and raised here. One couldn’t hide from those that lived down the street from you. Hell, she frequently saw Dr. Jackson, the man who’d delivered her 23 years earlier, out in the crowd on Saturday nights. 

 

This was Best Wishes.  No one got out unless they were going to war or going to prison. 

 

“Where?” she asked, turning back around, and dipping her finger into a pot of sparkling red lip gloss. 

 

“I’m having a party.” 

 

“For what?” 

 

“Do we need a reason?” 

 

The bouncer snorted with laughter, and she looked at his reflection in her mirror. Let her eyes wander over every inch of his blonde curls, cornflower blue eyes, and 6’ 1" frame leisurely. He looked like he should be hangin’ ten somewhere or wearing a pink polo and white shorts on a tennis court, not tossing drunk dudes out the side door when they got a little too hands on.  

 

Even his name seemed to belong to a different type of person, Hart Dufrense. If that wouldn’t fit in with those people living on estates in New England, she didn’t know what would.            

 

“Sure, I’ll come,” she said, standing and making her way to her wardrobe, “I have tomorrow off anyway."

 

Angel pulled her shirt and bra over her head and looked back to catch him quickly glance away with reddened cheeks. She turned back with a quiet smile. He’d been seeing her naked three nights a week for the past year, and at least every weekend for the past six months. It was nice to know she still had that effect on him. 

 

She felt Hart moved up to her side and touch the back of her neck, “I have tomorrow off too, can I come over tonight?” 

 

She looked over her shoulder with a smile, and motioned to the zip on the side of the little plaid skirt she’d put on while he was talking. She could hear Mr. Gerber speaking on the stage, hyping the meager opening hours crowd up.  He zipped it and she leaned to kiss him quickly.

 

“Yeah. We’ll go to the party first?” 

 

He nodded and she walked out of the room, moved into place behind the curtain. 

 

“…give a big welcome to Angel!” 

 

She waited for her music to start up before she threw the curtains back and sauntered onto the stage. 

 

\---

 

It took her a moment to gain her bearings as she slowly swam up into consciousness the next morning. She could feel Hart jammed up against her side, warm and naked, she could hear the ringtone that had sounded fine yesterday, but was now ear piercing in its intensity, and the light streaming in through the window was blindingly white. She reached over to her bedside table and pressed ignore without checking to see who’d called and lay in bed, pieces from the night before coming back to her. The drinking, the dancing, the drugs…She groaned, they’d gotten so fucked up. 

 

She touched her temple, and tried to go back to sleep, but her mind was awake now and filled with all the things she should be doing instead. She threw her legs over the side of the bed and walked to the bathroom blindly without grabbing a robe. He’d already seen every inch of her anyway, why be modest now? 

 

Angel jumped into the shower for ten minutes, and when she emerged Hart was standing in the mirror running a white wash cloth over his teeth, in lieu of a toothbrush, and gargling mouthwash. She grabbed her own brush, and fended off a grope with a laugh. 

 

“You mind if I shower?” 

 

She shrugged. “Why do you always ask that? Of course I don’t,” and put her things away as he smiled and went to wash up.  

 

She walked out, pulled on a clean pair of jeans, a white shirt, and lay down on her side, before she picked up her phone to check the call log and pressed talk. Hart slid into bed behind her, and by the feel of it, he hadn’t followed her lead and gotten dressed.  She tried to fend him off as he pushed his face into the curve of her neck but he would not be deterred. Just skimmed his hand into the back of her shirt and let it follow the edge of her bra until he reached a cup and slipped his hand inside.  She had so many other things to do, but he smelled like her cucumber body wash and he was all damp and warm, and she wanted him to keep going more than she wanted him not to.

 

The far away sound of a foreign voice pulled her up from the dense fog his touch had brought and she put the forgotten phone to her ear without thinking. 

 

“Hello?” 

 

\--- 

 

It was more frustrating than anything else - the wanting to move and being unable to. The expensive modifications he had to have done on his house and car, the way people acted around him. Like he wasn’t the same anymore. 

 

Maybe he wasn’t. 

 

He’d signed up with the national guard to help offset the cost of college, and two months later, when he’d watched those towers fall, Dean Park had known right then that that was it. It was over.  

 

He sighed, and let his head fall to the side, it was 9:45. He took off every second and fourth Friday of the month and stayed under the covers until 10 but decided to forgo it this morning and get started a little early. He sat up, pulled himself into the wheel chair, and began the same morning ritual he went through every day, before launching off on the 45 minute drive into town.  

 

He had a ritual when he got there. He always stopped at the Starbucks on the corner of her office to get a white mocha and a cranberry muffin to enjoy in her lobby before being escorted inside. He rolled over the plush tan carpet, past her rickety metal desk, and parked himself next to the black couch her able bodied patients used. Every doctor he’d seen, after it happened, wanted to know what he remembered. The answer was…not much. Just flashes of the midday sun high in the sky, a loud booming noise, his friends’ faces above him painted with varying degrees of shock and horror, the taste of blood in his mouth.   

 

The first clear memory he had was waking up in the hospital with a pounding headache and a throbbing in his legs that he’d never experienced before. They said it was called “phantom pain” and that amputees usually experienced it. That, though his legs were still there, they were no longer of any use to him. It had all gotten pretty sketchy after that.  

 

Ms. Noel walked into the room with a big smile and sat in the chair in front of him. She was of average height, thin, with beautiful, clear, dark skin and perfect white teeth. Out of all the counselors he’d gone through, he’d stayed with her because she didn’t ask him what he remembered, she’d asked him what he _felt_ about it.  

 

Angry, mostly. 

 

He’d been so mad at anyone who came into the vicinity of him, but sad too. He’d never forget the looks on his parents’ faces the first time they saw him after the accident. The look on Sarah’s…  He’d been sure as well. Positive that he’d be the one to beat this thing, out of all the guys being exercised within an inch of tears around him. Five years later, and he was still coming to terms with the realization that he wouldn’t. 

 

“What’s been happening lately?” 

 

The idea of telling her about Angel was circulating the edges of his brain, but he hesitated. She’d been trying to get him to talk about why he wasn’t dating for awhile now, to no avail. He didn’t want to get her hopes up.

 

“Nothing much.” 

 

She narrowed her eyes at him, and asked, “You sure?” with that perception, that was going to make her a great psychiatrist when she finished her degree, rearing its ugly head.  

 

He cracked his knuckles, and let his eyes wander to the courtyard below her window. “I saw an old school mate yesterday.” 

 

 “A friend?” 

 

“Not really. We knew each other’s face, but we ran in different circles.” 

 

“Girl or boy?” 

 

“It’s not like that,” he corrected, before she could even get the idea in her head. 

 

“Then why do you look that way?” 

 

“What way?” 

 

“Excited. You’ve got more pep in your step than usual.” 

 

He shook his head, and looked down into his lap. “I don’t think so.” 

 

When she didn’t reply, he looked up to find her studying him. “Alright then,” she finally said, writing something down on the pad in her lap. “Anything else?” 

 

The last thing he wanted to mention was getting Angel’s number, when he wasn’t even sure why he’d asked for it in the first place. Maybe he just wanted to see if he could still get one from a pretty girl, so he replied, “I went to a strip club.” 

 

She leaned back in her chair with a curious smile. “A strip club?” 

 

“Jeremy talked me into it.” 

 

She narrowed her eyes and he started to speak. “I know what you’re going to say. That I went because I want female companionship without having to open myself up, or put in any of the work.” 

 

She raised one perfectly manicured eyebrow. “You trying to steal my job?” 

 

“No,” he said with a laugh, “it’s just when you’ve been in therapy for a while you start to speak the language.” 

 

She took a sip of the water on the table beside her. “I was actually going to ask you if you had fun. Don’t think that, because I’m a woman, I’m against those types of establishments. Everything you said is true, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be fun every once in a while.” 

 

He sat back, “I did have fun. I actually left my credit card there, and that’s how I saw Angel again. She brought it to me.” 

 

“A girl then?” 

 

He realized what he’d said, and it was too late to do anything else about it besides tell the truth. “Yes, she's a girl.” 

 

“She work there?” 

 

He furrowed his brow. “I guess. I didn’t see her dance that night.” 

 

She nodded and grinned. “You have that look again." She motioned to his face. “That little secret smile. What is it?” 

 

He ran his hand through his hair, didn’t even know if what he was about to say made sense, but he’d say it anyway. “She was mean to me. Well, not mean _exactly_ , she was actually pretty polite, but she wasn’t nice.” 

 

“And you liked that?” 

 

“It was better than people condescending to me with that _oh no_ look, or raising their voices when they speak because I’m in a wheel chair. She was definitely curious about it, but it wasn’t all she saw.” 

 

Ms. Noel nodded and scribbled furiously. “That’s interesting.” 

 

\---

 

He pulled up into his driveway an hour and a half later to see Jeremy Lowe sitting on the steps of his front porch. They’d both come from Best Wishes but hadn’t been friendly before meeting in boot camp.  After he’d survived the same roadside bomb that had crippled Dean, with only partial hearing loss and a limp, they’d been inseparable.  

 

He pulled himself up and walked over, “How was the hot doctor today?” 

 

Dean rolled his eyes, pulled his chair over his lap, and out the car before he started to maneuver his way into it. Jeremy watched all of this without moving to help, he knew better.

 

“As beautiful as ever.” 

 

The other man smiled serenely. “That’s good to know.” 

 

Dean laughed, and led his friend inside the house. 

 

“You doing anything today?” 

 

He shook his head. “No, what you got in mind?” 

 

Jeremy shrugged, opened the fridge and started making a sandwich like he owned the place. “Nothing much. I thought we might go to the movies. Order a pizza or something.” 

 

“Sure, I just gotta go change.” 

 

His friend nodded and followed Dean into his room, flopped down on the bed as he grabbed some clothes and rolled into the bathroom. As soon as Dean came out, Jeremy was standing there with hopeful eyes, “Who’s Angel?” 

 

He blinked. “Excuse me?” 

 

The other man held up the slip of paper he’d pulled from his pocket, and sat on his nightstand the night before. “This Angel.” 

 

Dean reached for it, but Jeremy got up and moved out of his grasp. 

 

“Have you called?” 

 

“No.” 

 

“Why?” 

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. “Why don’t you mind your own business?” 

 

“I’m sorry, but when it looks like my friend, someone who only has silent dinners with his ex-girlfriend, might be branching out, I get kind of excited.” 

 

“It’s not like that,” he clarified, a little miffed over his dig about Sarah. 

 

“Then why don’t you call?” 

 

Dean sighed. “I don’t know her hours. I’m not sure I should…” 

 

“It’s three in the afternoon,” Jeremy cut in, picking up the phone and handing it over, “I say it’s the perfect time.” 

 

Dean had changed a lot since coming back, but he was still physically unable to deny a dare, and that’s what this was. He took the phone, and dialed with growing anxiety. He’d never really meant to call her, didn’t even know her, and he was anxious about how she’d react at hearing his voice but he needn’t have worried. Her voicemail picked up, and he flipped it closed. 

 

“What happened?” Jeremy asked suspiciously. 

 

“I guess she was busy, she didn’t pick up.” 

 

“You’ll call her later though, right?” 

 

“Of course,” Dean replied with no plans to do any such thing, “let’s order in.” 

 

\---

 

Jeremy paid for their double meat pizza while Dean set the movie up. They sat down, and _Re-Animator_ was just getting started when his phone rang. He picked it, eyes still on the screen. “Hello?” 

 

He could hear something low in the background, but no one spoke, “Hello?” 

 

When there was still no reply, he rolled into the next room and shut the door behind him. “Hello, is anyone there?” 

 

The voice that came over the line in reply was the last he expected to hear.

 

 _Hello?_

 


	2. Invitations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It took Dean 23 years to realize it, but he was kind of a glutton for punishment.

He took a breath, “hello?”

 

 _“No. Stop it,”_ she whispered playfully, _“I’m on the phone.”_

 

It took the sudden loud giggle that came next for him to get that she wasn’t speaking to him... _“this is Angel Swanson. I’m returning a call.”_

 

“…how may I help you,” he asked after a moment for lack of anything else to say.

 

She whispered something lowly to whoever was in the room with her before saying, _“I’m returning **your** call,” _ he could  almost hear her eyes roll over the line, _“who is this?”_

 

His mouth opened and closed like a fish trapped on land. The desire to hang up and pretend this never happened was strong but Anne Park had not raised a badly mannered child and he couldn’t bring himself to actually go through with the plan, “it’s Dean Park.”

 

There was a loud silence before he continued, “from Wal-Mart yesterday.”

 

 _“Yes of course,”_ she replied quickly, _“I’m sorry I didn’t recognize your voice. My minds somewhere else.”_

 

 _“…is that?”_

 

There was a muffled sound as she covered the phone to speak to whoever the guy with her was, a rustle, and then the sound of a door closing, “ _so what’s going on?_ ”

 

“I don’t want to take you away from your company…”

 

 _“It’s fine, he’s got to get to work anyway.”_

 

With that avenue of escape closed to him, Dean thought fast, “I just realized that I didn’t thank you for returning my card.”

 

 _“…you didn’t?”_  

 

“No…so I just called to do that. It would have been so much trouble to call, report it and get a new one and what if someone had got to it before hand,” he asked, getting into the story, “it could have messed up my credit forever. They could have…”

 

 _“You are very welcome,”_ she broke in while he took a breath, _“I know how much trouble changing all your cards and accounts can be.”_

 

He realized he was only nodding his agreement and that she couldn’t see him, “yeah, I can imagine.”

 

Time passed with no one uttering a word and the itch to fill the silence, even with idle chatter, became to much for him to ignore, “so it was nice to talk to you again then.”

 

 _“Yeah you too,”_ she replied dispassionately. He imagined her on the other end of the line filing her nails with a bored expression, _“bye.”_

 

He moved to say, bye back but she’d already hung up.

 

\---

 

Dean woke up the next morning cranky and decided to call and move Sarah's and his weekly dinner up into a breakfast slot. She agreed and he dressed quickly in a pair of black slacks and a blue button up shirt before he drove into town. He pulled into the half full parking lot of Dino’s Italian Restaurant 25 minutes later with ease.

 

Her 2009, black, Cadillac XLR was already there so he got himself settled and out as quickly as he could. He rolled inside and looked around before his eyes landed on her  resting her head on a balled fist and glancing out the window. He let himself watch her, remembered when all he wanted to do was be with her. He pasted on a smile and shook off his dreary thoughts before rolling over and calling out.

 

“Hey Sarah.”

 

He must have startled her because she almost knocked over her water glass, “hey Dean.”

 

He pulled up into the spot that the waiters would return a chair to as soon he left, “I hope changing the time wasn’t too much trouble.”

 

She waved him off and raised a hand to catch the waiters attention, “no problem at all.”

 

A girl no older than 18 with red curls and a big smile walked up, “what may I get you this morning?”

 

“Pancakes, sausage, eggs and orange juice.”

 

“Piled high?”

 

He shook his head, “not this morning.”

 

She wrote it down and looked to Sarah, “what can I get you?”

 

She closed her menu, grabbed his and handed them both over, “the same. Pile it high though.”

 

He waited until the girl left their side before speaking, “you’re eating something other than egg whites and toast? What’s happening?”

 

“Nothing much.”

 

Her denial of the obvious only intrigued him more, “no it’s something, what is it?”

 

She squeezed her eyes tightly and he furrowed his brow, she did that when she was nervous. He reached across the table and grabbed her hand, “are you alright?”

 

It all came out in one breathless sentence, “James and I are having a baby.”

 

There was a beat of tense silence and Dean was proud to know that the hand on hers never faltered. She looked up and studied him.

 

"That’s good to hear. I know you wanted that.”

 

“Dean…,” she quieted down when their waitress came back with the food and continued with, “are you alright,” after she left.

 

He pulled his hand back, “why wouldn’t I be?”

 

“You’re cracking your knuckles.”

 

He stopped and flexed his hands before putting them palm down on the tabletop, “that’s about something else.”

 

“Are you sure you’re…”

 

“Yes, Jesus Christ.”

 

She nibbled on her bottom lip and he pushed his food around the plate, suddenly uninterested in his breakfast, “I’ve met someone anyway.”

 

Her face lit up and he had to pinch himself to keep from saying something snide.

 

“Who?”

 

“Angel Swanson,” it wasn’t exactly a lie. He had just run into her again and she’d even given him her number. The details of why either of those things happened were unnecessary for her to know.

 

"That girl we went to school with," her face scrunched up, “isn't she a stripper now?”

 

Dean felt himself tense up at the sound of her voice as she said that, “yeah.”

 

She crossed her legs and gave him a look, “Dean, I don't think...”

 

“You don’t even know her,” he preempted, angry on the missing womans behalf.

 

“I remember her from school Dean. The stuff she got into isn’t anything you need to be involved in.”

 

He looked up at her, his face a mask of anger, “what makes you think you know what I need?”

 

Sarah’s mouth fell open at his tone, “I’m just trying to help you Dean. She’s trouble.”

 

“Yeah well,” he ran his hand through his hair, thought he’d need a cut soon, “she makes me feel like I’m still a human being.”

 

That wasn’t what he’d planned to say but now that it was out there he realized just how true it was.

 

Sarah’s eyes got soft and hurt and if this was any other day he’d be trying to comfort her but _this_ day, he stayed where he was.

 

“Well I’m happy for you then.”

 

“Thanks,” he spat back sarcastically.

 

The only sound at the table for the next 20 minutes was that of the forks and knives scrapping against the plates. Dean was too upset to try to engage her or say sorry.

 

She looked at him finally, setting her utensils down a tad too hard, “you have no right to be angry with me you know.”

 

He sighed and backed away from the table, “I'm not."

 

"Dean, we have to talk about this sooner or later!"

 

"Whatever, I gotta go.”

 

“Fine then,” she replied curtly, looking down at her plate “see you next week.”

 

He turned quickly, “yeah see you,” before rolling through the room and out the door.

 

\---

 

The first time Angel did drugs she was 12 ½ and at her mothers funeral. She’d been inconsolable, bawling and uncooperative to the point that her grandmother, suddenly a parent again years after she should have been, had finally left her to own devices. She’d waited until the door clicked behind her before she’d gotten up and silently trekked to her grandmothers medicine cabinet.

 

She rifled through it, pushing aside bottles of Aleve and various creams until she came upon a slender orange bottle with a white label and the word _Xanax_ written on it. She was young but she wasn’t stupid, she knew that her grandma had gotten the pills two days ago to help her deal with her only daughters death and the appearance of her sulky grand daughter.

 

She took one and stood up on her tip toes to swallow water from the scalloped sink. She dried her face on the hem of her black dress and walked back into the room slowly. Sat down on the floor and turned on the T.V. She stared at it without paying attention as the drugs started to kick in. The pain, the worry, the horrible, anxious, feeling of being unwanted didn’t exactly leave her, she just didn’t care about it anymore.

 

Angel sat there until the sky darkened and her grandmother entered the room to sweep her up into a hug. She listened and nodded slowly as the older woman went on about her _being a good girl_ and _thanks for helping me out today_.

 

She went to take a bath that night, already half asleep as soon as her feet touched the hot water, and decided this sense of being anesthetized, of being in a body she couldn’t really feel, was nice.

 

\---

 

She’d tried other things over the years: weed, ecstasy…party drugs mostly, but the second time she got _that_ feeling, that ah ha moment as Oprah might say, she was 16 years old in the cab of her 19 year old boyfriends rusted out white ford. They’d driven off into an empty field and she watched as he cut her a line and rolled up the biggest bill he had in his wallet for her to snort it through.

 

She’d thought he chose it because he loved her _that_ much.

 

She’d leaned forward, shaking with fear and excitement, and took the first inhale of what would become a 7 year and counting fixation. She’d lain on her back afterwards, staring at the bright sky over head.

 

She remembered feeling like she’d found what she hadn’t been searching for: Not the numbness she’d expected after her first experimentation, but a _nothingness_.

 

She remembered wanting to feel that forever.

 

This time when her grandmother saw her afterward, her head unclouded by grief, she’d known. No matter how long Angel had stayed out trying to sober up, her grandma had known as soon as she’d looked at her. Had called the boys parents and told them, had punished her, had made her promise not to do it again, had blamed herself because Angels parents were in the wind and she _just_ should have been paying more attention.

 

Angel had watched her impassively, shaky and drowsy, and prepared to promise not to continue even though she knew it would be a lie as the words left her mouth. She liked it too much to stop cold like that.

 

“If you love me, you’ll promise me not to do it again,” the older woman asked emphatically and she _did_ love her but this lie is the first of many that will prove that she didn’t love her enough.

 

Angel rubbed her forehead before catching the other woman’s eye, “I promise.”

 

\---

 

She looked away from Ethel Swanson’s framed photograph as she popped a piece of _Big Red_ into her mouth and started out the door to walk the half mile to the little grocery store on the edge of town. She would have preferred a ride but Hart would already be at work by now so, because of the heat, she’d changed into some hip hugging dark blue jean shorts, a white wife beater and a pair of electric pink flip flops.

 

She made it there in 20 minutes, 10 minutes faster than usual, and picked up a half quart of _Bluebell_ ice cream and some strawberry straws. She put it on the counter and pulled her wallet out.

 

“How’s it going Angel,” Paul asked with a genuine smile.

 

He was in his late 50’s, early 60’s and had been running the counter at this store for at least as long as Angel had been alive.

 

“It’s going,” she replied to his hearty laughter, “have a good day.”

 

“Back at ya,” he yelled after her retreating form.  

 

She cut through an open field and slowed to light up a cigarette. She noticed the car the minute it pulled up behind her but only got tense when he didn’t pull ahead. This happened to her every now and then. A guy saw a pretty girl walking down the street and offered her a ride, with every connotation that word had, or a customer thinking he might be able to become more if they got the chance to be alone.

 

He honked once and she ignored him, picked up her pace. He honked again and she moved further away from the street. When he honked for the third time she turned slowly, middle finger raised and scowl firmly in place.

 

\---

It took Dean 23 years to realize it, but he was kind of a glutton for punishment.

 

He hadn’t always been, or at least he liked to think he hadn’t, but the years after coming back had turned him into someone who said mean things to girls he used to love. The kind of guy who said things that would hurt himself as long as they hurt her too, the kind of guy who didn’t call his parents when he promised he would even though he knew they’d ride him over it later.

 

He had become the kind of he kind of person who was seriously contemplating pulling over and asking the woman who’d hung up on him only a day earlier if she wanted a ride home.

 

He’d honked once, then again, and one more time after that when she turned on him with a glower and an obscene hand gesture which faltered when she saw who was behind the wheel. She approached him cautiously, stopping just out of reach of him if he decided to make a grab for her, “what’s up?”

 

He clutched the steering wheel before relaxing, “I’m on my way home and I saw you. I thought I might be able to give you a ride.”

 

She looked into the distance before turning back to him, “I don’t know…”

 

“Oh it’s alright,” he motioned to his lap, “I can’t chase after you.”

 

She looked as shocked by his words as he was to have said them. Sarah had always hated when he tried to lighten the mood of their overwraught household by joking about the very thing that had made it that way.

 

She always gave him a surprised look before walking out the door.

 

Angel was doing the same thing before she smiled and moved a little closer, “thanks but I don’t think so.”

 

He grinned and shrugged, “alright then but your ice cream’s melting already. There’s no telling what it’ll look like by the time you get back home.”

 

She glanced down at the condensation already dripping from the bag before looking back up at him. This was going well, better than any of their other meetings so far, and he decided to push it, “come on,” he reached over and pushed the door open.

 

She hesitated only once before accepting with a soft smile and walking around to the right side. He watched her as she moved, stared at the shirt sticking to the sweaty skin of her back and grinned quickly when she made it to her side of the car. She pulled his chair out and put it in the backseat before she slipped into the passenger side and closed the door behind her.

 

She had leaned back and began to settle in when he asked, “could you put that out?”

 

She froze with the cigarette halfway to her lips before bringing it back down and stubbing it out in his ashtray with a flourish. He drummed his finger on the armrest, fighting over whether or not he should mention it when he decided her safety was more important than his comfort, “seatbelt’s please.”

 

She looked at him but he wouldn’t tear his gaze away from the road ahead. He could see her licking her lips from his peripheral vision before she locked the belt in place, “all tucked in and tidy. Ready to go?”

 

He looked over and nodded before putting the car into drive and pulling off.

 

“Where are you coming from?”

 

He was distracted from answering as she slid her sandals off and stuck her feet out the window. He followed the line of muscle now visible in her thigh before answering, “I went with a friend for breakfast.”

 

“I know them?”

 

“Sarah.”

 

“I thought you said you two broke up?”

 

“I did.”

 

He waited for her to ask why they were still going places together if they weren’t _together_ , like everyone else did, but she didn’t. Just nodded and stared out the window at the cornfields on either side of them as they blurred past.

 

He usually felt the need to fill silences but the quiet between them now was comfortable and he made himself let it stand.

 

They passed the city limit in minutes, “which way should I…”

 

“Turn left,” she answered, catching his drift, “then take a right.”

 

He followed her directions and pulled up in front of a worn, 4 story, apartment complex. The parking lot was a wide expanse of concrete with weeds and broken bottles. She got out and moved his chair back into its prior position before leaning into the window, “thanks for the ride.”

 

He smiled, “no problem.”

 

She didn’t say anything else for a minute but he could see that she wanted to, “you need something else?”

 

“No,” she replied quickly and moved away before stopping and coming back, “was I short with you on the phone yesterday?”

 

Out of everything he imagined she might say that hadn’t even been an option. He struggled for a moment before answering, “were you short?”

 

“Yeah, was I curt to you?”

 

“Oh well…” he thought back to her hanging up on him, “Um…”

 

She covered her mouth and said, “I’m so sorry,” on an embarrassed laugh, the first time he’d heard her do that without an implied smirk, “My default personality is mean. I’m working on it.”

 

“No, don’t worry about it. I like your default personality.”

 

He had a moment to wish he were dead for saying that before she smiled and nodded, said, “thank you,” and was on her way into the building before stopping and coming back to his car once again.

 

She pulled another slip of paper from her purse and scribbled something down, handed it to him and said, “me and my friends go to a lot of parties on the weekend and that’s the one we’re going to this Friday.”

 

He looked at it with anxiety and surprise, Dean couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone out just to have fun. It was so much trouble now.

 

“Thanks for the invite but…”

 

“Don’t decide anything right now,” she said quickly, “If you want to come, just call me okay.”

 

He stared at the address written down before he finally relented, “alright.”

 

“Good,” she said lowly and looked at him again before she said, “you know,” and leaned further into the window, “you’re not really how I thought you would be.”

 

“Is that good or bad?”

 

She smiled again before backing up and stuffing her hands in to her pockets, “it’s very good.”


	3. Voyeur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He didn’t speak to her again for two weeks.

“You’re going right?”

 

Dean rolled his eyes and sighed, “I knew I shouldn’t have told you.”

 

“Why not,” Jeremy asked, truly perplexed, “you knew as soon as you called that I’m come over and you knew exactly what I would say when you brought this up which is why you did. You wanted me to talk you into it and I’m going to.”

 

“I didn’t want you to talk me into it I just wanted a soundingboard.”

 

Jeremy rolled his eyes, “if you want to talk to someone who doesn’t have an opinion, get a pet.”

 

Dean laughed aloud at that before sitting back further into his couch, “I want to go but I’m not sure.”

 

“About what?”

 

He shook his head, “I don’t know.”

 

Jeremy gave him a sympathetic look, and sat down in the armchair next to the sofa, “look, if it makes you uncomfortable then don’t go. If I thought being locked up in this house made you happy I wouldn’t care but it doesn’t. You’ve been doing this for 4 years and I don’t like how you sit around waiting on…whatever.

 

“I think we both know what I’ve been waiting on.”

 

Jeremy’s face softened and Dean looked down at his hands in his lap, “she’s having a baby.”

 

“She told you?”

 

Dean looked up sharply and Jeremy put his hands up in surrender, “I found out maybe a week ago and there was no way I was going to be the messenger with that news.”

 

“Why not,” he asked angrily, “I don’t care.”

 

His friend waited until he looked at him to speak, “If you don’t care then what are you waiting for?”

 

\---

 

 _“Then what are you waiting for?”_

 

He couldn’t get that out of his head for the rest of the week. While he stocked shelves and made change at Wal-Mart. While he watched late night movies and made runs to the store.

 

 _“What are you waiting for?”_

 

He splashed some water on his face and looked in the mirror, he didn’t know anymore.

 

\---

 

 “I invited someone.”

 

“Who,” Chrystal asked, taking a bite from a bologna sandwich and wiping down the kitchen counter at the same time. Both she and Angel were at Hart’s place, helping him get ready for the party later on.

 

“Dean Park.”

 

She watched as Chrystal’s eyes narrowed in remembrance, “that Korean guy we went to school with right,” her eyes narrowed further, “isn’t he crippled?”

 

Angel felt herself tense a little and tried to calm down, she knew the other girl meant no harm and what did she care anyway, “yes, he’s in a wheel chair now.”

 

She nodded but didn’t say anything for a moment, “you’re not trying to catch feelings or anything right?”

 

“What,” Angel replied quickly, “no, why would you even think that? Besides," she went on, "he never really confirmed that he was coming or anything. He might not even show up.”

 

Chrystal shrugged and got back to work, “just making sure.”

 

They worked quietly, side by side, before she looked around, moved closer and lowered her voice, “it's for the best that he doesn't come probably."

 

At Angels curious look she continued, "you know people in wheelchairs can’t have sex right?”

 

Angel scoffed, “excuse me?!”

 

“They can’t,” she went on, “something about the spinal cord being broken or damaged or whatever.”

 

Angel struggled to find words for a moment before starting to ask, “what do you…,” only to have Hart burst into the room with three 12 packs of beer stacked in his arms.

 

“There’s 10 more of these in the car if you two wouldn’t mind helping me?”

 

She dropped what she was doing and their conversation slipped her mind, she never did get around to asking her what she meant.

 

\---

 

The guests started to arrive after seven that night and when the clock hit 10 and Dean still hadn’t called or shown up she thought he probably just didn’t want to come.

 

It bothered how much that idea troubled her.

 

\---

 

He’d thought of turning back at least four times before he’d made it to the front door. Once when he couldn’t find anything he wanted to wear, before he finally settled on a pair of blue jeans and a yellow shirt. Again when he tried to call her and she didn’t pick up and for a third time when he pulled up to the house and it  started to rain as soon as he got out of his car. He opened his umbrella and wanted to back out for the fourth time when he realized the house had a porch and no ramp.

 

He felt his face heat at the knowledge that he wouldn’t be able to even get in without calling someone to help him and there was no way he was going to do that. He took a breath, it would be alright, Angel had never even known he was coming. He could get out of there and never be missed at all so he tried to turn back around in the wet grass when two more guests pulled up onto the curb.

 

A man and woman got out of a beat up Hyundai and he recognized the red headed girl almost immediately. She had been in the army as well, as a medic, and must have just gotten back or was home on leave.

 

“Hey Lacey.”

 

She and her date had been running to the door under a shared umbrella but they stopped when she heard him say her name, “Dean?”

 

He smiled, “how you been?”

 

She moved forward and pulled him into a hug, “fine, how have you been?”

 

“Good, home on leave?”

 

She sighed and nodded, “I only signed up for 3 years but you know with stop loss and all…”

 

He nodded and looked away, angry that she was being punished for not getting hurt but happy that his handicap, though he cursed it every day of his life, had gotten him out of going on endless tours. The one good thing it had ever done for him.

 

“Well anyways,” she continued, “I’m going back in a week and I wanted to have some fun before that. The question is, what are _you_ doing here?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Come on, you’ve never been a partier even before you got hurt and afterwards you know you really got introverted.”

 

“Yeah I know,” he glanced away, embarrassed, “Angel invited me.”

 

She looked surprised but pleased, “oh yeah? She’s a nice girl.”

 

He smirked, “I know that but we’re just friends.”

 

Dean was torn between thinking that it was sweet how everyone watched after him and being annoyed by it.

 

“Oh I’m sure,” she replied, her disbelief palpable.

 

“Come on Lacey,” the man broke in to their conversation, “it’s really starting to come down out here.”

 

She nodded at him in acknowledgment before turning back, “you need help getting up the steps?”

 

“No don’t worry about it you two…”

 

“Grab his arm for me will you Steve,” she asked her friend, ignoring Dean all together “I’ll bring his chair.”

 

Steve did as asked and carried Dean up the stairs with Lacey trailing them under her umbrella and dragging his wheel chair. They stayed on the porch with him until he’d settled into it and Steve had given him back his umbrella.

 

“Thanks.”

 

“It’s fine, just make sure you do me a favor.”

 

“Anything.”

 

“Saturate!”

 

He looked at her curiously, “what does that…,” but she and her date had already run inside of the house.

 

He looked in before following them inside. The interior was smaller than what the ouside would lead you to believe with neutral, earth tone wall colors and dark wood floors but he could barely see it through the mass of grinding bodies populating the room. The music was so loud his ear drums were starting to hurt and there was no sign of Angel anywhere.

 

He didn’t want to bother anyone but with Lacey nowhere to be found he tapped a guy on the shoulder who was sitting on the couch in front of him to ask about her, “you know Angel?”

 

“Who doesn’t,” he replied sleepily.

 

“Well do you know where I can find her?”

 

His eyes fluttered open and he pointed down the hallway, “I’m pretty sure she’s back there, last door on the left.”

 

Dean thanked him and made his way over only to be stopped by a baby gate blocking entrance to the hallway. He wavered a minute before opening it and rolling down the empty, relatively quiet passageway and came to a tightly closed door. He knocked once and pushed it open to see a group of people kneeling over a small-mirrored table.

 

He couldn’t see what was on it but he knew instantly that he’d just walked in on something, “Angel?”

 

She pulled back and smiled a little too big when she saw him, wiped her face discreetly as she got up and headed for him.

 

“Why didn’t you call? I thought you weren’t coming,” she asked after a quiet moment between them went on a beat too long.

 

He didn’t really hear her question at first he was so preoccupied with the gold-sequined, thigh length, shift dress she wearing, “what?”

 

“You were supposed to call me.”

 

He nodded slowly, “right. I tried but I couldn’t get through so…”

 

“Right, I’ve been getting lot of calls this week. Sorry about that.”

 

“It’s fine.”

 

She smiled, “so were you planning on staying in here with us?”

 

“No,” he said quickly, “I just wanted to let you know I was here. I’m going to go back in the front and find a dance partner.”

Angel licked her lips and he could already see her mind was back on whatever the group behind her was doing, “alright well, saturate.”

 

He looked at her curiously, “what does that mean? You’re the second person to say that to me.”

 

“You don’t know what that is?”

 

“I’ve never heard it in my life.”

 

“Well this is a saturate party,” she said, “that means no food’s served, just alcohol so when someone says saturate to you it’s like they’re saying have fun, get drunk. You know?”

 

He nodded, surprised and a little uncomfortable with the concept, “oh okay.”

 

“But if you want something to eat,” she continued, “just tell me and I’ll…”

 

“No food at a saturate party,” a dark-skinned girl behind her yelled drunkenly before Angel waved her off.

 

“Don’t worry about her, if you want something, just tell me alright.”

 

“I will.”

She licked her lips, “alright well there’s  drinks in the kitchen and,” she opened her arms, “have fun.”

 

“Thanks for inviting me.”

 

She stood in front of him a moment longer before the other people in the room called her back, “come on Angel!”

 

She turned and put her finger up, asking them to wait a minute longer before she said, “I’m glad you came,” to him.

He finally smiled back, “I’m happy I came too.”

 

He rolled out of the room backwards, shut the door quietly behind him, and backed down the hallway, through the crowded living room, into the relative quiet of the kitchen and out the back door onto the dark empty rear porch. He took a breath and closed his eyes, tried to calm his loudly beating heart.

 

He knew all the rumors about her, about the drugs and about her lifestyle. He knew what she’d been doing in there and that whatever was percolating in his head about the two of them was a bad idea but he couldn’t control his desire to be around her, to look at her, he really didn’t have any desire to try to either. He rested his head on his hand and tried to think of a way out of this.

 

“You alright dude?”

 

Dean started at the unexpected voice and turned to see a tall blonde man in blue jeans and a white t-shirt leaning against the railing and staring back at him impassively.

 

“Yeah I’m alright.”

 

The other man nodded and pulled out a cigarette to light, “just making sure. Want one?”

 

“I don’t smoke.”

 

He took a pull and stared off into the rainy backyard, “this is my party, I’m Hart, and you are?”

 

“Oh I’m Dean.”

 

“Angel’s friend?”

 

“Yes.”

 

The other man was quiet for a moment before he said, “good, she was worried you wouldn’t come.”

 

Dean wanted to ask him more about that but decided not to, he didn’t want his curiosity getting back to her. They looked out at the rain quietly until Hart pulled two Heinekens from the cooler at his feet.

 

“Heads up!”

 

He looked up just in time to catch the bottle and stared down at it like it might be a bomb, “thanks but I’m not really a big a drinker.”

 

Hart shrugged and started moving towards the door, said, “it’s a party, live a little,” before going back into the house.

 

Dean stared at the door before he looked back out into the yard. He could leave now. He’d shown his face, said hello to Angel, gotten out of his comfort zone and he was pretty sure she wouldn’t even notice his absence. He could just write this whole night off as he’d been planning to do all this week anyway. Go back home, watch a movie and go to sleep like he did almost every weekend.

 

Another song came on and everyone in the front room whooped and sang along, he could feel the floor vibrating beneath his feet from the music’s bass and the amount of people who’d gotten up to move along with it.

 

Yeah he could do that, leave and be just fine with it. Or he could relax, start to live his life again.

 

Dean made a decision then, pulled the cap off his own beverage and downed almost half of it in one gulp. Rolled over to the cooler, pulled another one out and moved back into the main room to try to find a dance partner.

 

\---

 

Dean woke up in his chair an unknown amount of time later with a crick in his neck and not completely sure what was going on. There were three other people passed out around him, on the floor and on the couch, but it seemed as though most of the party guests had found a way home. He groaned and tried to stretch his tight muscles out of their uncomfortable positions.

 

His mouth tasted sort of like day old whiskey mixed with bile and he rolled into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. Overall, he remembered having had fun. Had danced with a girl or two and drank more than he ever had in his entire life but he was dead sober now and couldn’t find even a little bit of regret over any of it.

 

He rinsed his mouth before he gulped the water down and started on his search for Angel to say bye. He searched every inch of the house that had been open to company but once again found himself standing at that baby gate. He shouldn’t go back there, that part of the house had been closed off and she might not even be here anymore anyway but he found himself opening the gate and going into the hall anyway.

 

He rolled down it slowly, stopped short for a second when he heard a soft moaning sound before he let it call him farther down the hall. Back to the same door he'd gone to earlier in the night but it was slightly ajar this time. He looked at the slim opening, had a good idea what he was probably going to see when he rolled up to it but he didn’t back off like he should have. Didn’t heed that respectful imperative in the back of his mind just stared at the strip of diffused light he could _just_ make out in the room and squeezed the armrest on his chair.

 

He’d actually had a good time, for the first time in a long time, and he knew invading whoever was in the rooms privacy would cast a shadow over the whole evening but it was too late to turn back now. His skin felt too tight, his mind was racing and before he could talk himself out of it he leaned forward to peek in.

 

He couldn’t quite make sense of what he saw at first.

 

It was a bedroom, the little table that had been in the center of the floor had been removed, with cream carpeting, a light on in the en suite bathroom, a queen-size bed with one side up against the opposite wall and what looked like two people lying diagonally across it.

 

His eyes kept moving over the figures to a smattering of clothes across the floor that included a pair of jeans, a white t-shirt and a gold sequined shift dress.

 

He backed away quickly when he recognized that last piece of clothing, moved to start cracking his knuckles but stopped just short for fear that they might hear.

 

It was different now.

 

This could no longer be one more ill-advised action he could add to his list for tonight: A cute, sneaky story to tell Jeremy later on, something to think on as he lay in his bed alone at night. He _knew_ one of the people in that room, she was a friend to him even if he’d never declared that to her and looking in on Angel wouldn’t be funny, it would be a betrayal.

 

There was a low creak from behind the door and he broke out in a cold sweat. He’d only wanted to look in on them in first place because he was curious but now, and he hated to admit it, liked to think he was better than that, but the knowledge of who was in there didn’t really make him want to leave them in peace as much as it made him want to look more.

 

See parts of her she’d had covered during their meetings, find out how her face looked when someone was inside of her. He tasted blood and realized he’d bitten through the skin of his lower lip. Dean let the torn flesh go and stared at the crack feeling sick with longing and the horrible knowledge of what he wanted to take from her without asking permission.

 

With Sarah he’d always been the gentleman, never wanted more than she was comfortable giving and it hadn’t been an issue really. He’d been happy with her the ways things were. He didn’t even really know Angel but when he looked at her he felt like he did when he was on one of those rooftops in Baghdad. On edge, keyed into everything around him, like something wild, like someone he no longer understood.

 

He shouldn’t have been doing it but he was beyond _should_ at this point, it was about _need_ now and everything in his body needed him to see her.

 

To see them together.

 

He moved forward quietly and peeked between the door and it’s frame to see Angel on her stomach leaning up on her forearms with her partner hovering over her. He couldn’t see her body, they were tangled up in the bed sheets and the blond with her had his arm across her chest, but he didn’t see what he’d thought he’d might; had been anticipating if he was being truthful with himself. Nothing dirty, unmentionable or taboo was going on between them.

 

He didn’t know what he’d been expecting but it hadn’t been their sweetness, their camaraderie. He could see that they didn’t think what they were doing was tawdry or cheap or anything like that despite what their location would have one believe. He actually thought they were sort of romantic, like two newlyweds who couldn’t keep their hands off one another.

 

It made Dean feel ill how gorgeous they looked together, him: all pale and light mixed with her: all dark and sultry. They looked like a renaissance work of art. Like something crafted from his imagination.

 

He watched Angel lay down flat with the side of her face against the bed, clutch the edge of it so tightly that he could see a bicep. The man with her pushed the sweaty tendrils of hair from her temple and leaned forward, whispered something against the side of her ear that made her laugh mid gasp and the way he looked down at the profile of her face as she did so was so intimate that Dean looked away, ashamed of himself.

 

He rolled back away from the door slowly, breathing deep and feeling guilty, turned around and went down the hall, rolled out the door and locked it behind himself all without saying a word.

 

He didn’t speak to her again for two weeks.

 

He was afraid of what he might say.


	4. Taking Chances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was avoiding her.

[](http://www.valentchamber.com/viewstory.php?sid=722&chapter=4&textsize=-1)“Anything new been happening in your life since our last meeting?”

 

Dean scratched his ear and looked off somewhere into the middle distance, “I went to a party.”

 

He saw Ms. Noel lean forward out of the corner of his eye. “Really? You’ve never been the partying sort before.”

 

He swallowed and gathered his courage before turning back toward her, “You remember that girl I told you about? Angel?”

 

She nodded.

 

“Well she invited me…”

 

He watched her try not to smile and had a horrible feeling that he knew what she was going to say before she could even get it out: “ _That’s so sweet!”_ like he was some kid going to prom. His parents would’ve reacted that way to hearing about him being with a girl, any girl, even one like Angel.

 

He felt himself falling back into the funk that had taken him over for the past two weeks, since he’d seen Angel last, but was able to shake it off with some effort.  Out of everyone, he didn’t need to worry about Ms. Noel, she’d never do that to him.

 

She smiled wider and leaned back into her chair, “first a strip club and now a party.”

 

He could feel himself begin to blush, “They made me go,” he replied. A little more defensive than what was called for.

 

“No that’s good Dean,” she quickly clarified, “you’re getting out of your comfort zone, everybody needs to do that once in awhile.”

 

He took a breath and smiled a little until she asked, “so what happened at the party?”

 

He stopped smiling then and started thinking about what to say and what to leave out.  She wouldn’t be happy to hear about how much he’d drank, about what he’d done afterwards…

 

“What happened,” she repeated with a more sober tone and when he looked up her eyes were studying him. He had to move fast.

 

“Nothing much. I drank a little, danced with a few girls and went home.”

 

She waited a moment before relaxing, “danced around huh? What about Angel, where was she?”

 

The memory of a backroom, of slick naked skin, of perfect white teeth biting down on plump lips, invaded his mind without permission. He cleared his throat before answering, “we spoke when I first came in but we didn’t stay together.”

 

“Did that bother you?”

 

“Angel not staying with me?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“No,” he replied without thinking and found that it was true. He really wasn’t upset with her over that, “she invited half the people that were there. I couldn’t expect her to follow me around all night.”

 

Francine nodded and scribbled something down on her pad. He folded his hands in his lap and watched as she sighed and looked up at him determinedly, “when’s the last time you had sex?”

 

He blinked and his mouth fell open but nothing came out at first, “what does that…”

 

“You’re getting back out on the market Dean. l know you don’t want to talk about this but you’re going to have to at some point.”

 

He felt dread building low in his belly, “Ms. Noel…,” he stopped short, unsure how to continue. How to explain what he was feeling when he wasn’t able to explain it to himself. “I don’t want to talk about that,” he finished lamely.

 

She licked her lips and tried again, “I know. I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you but I want to tell you that you’re not broken. That you can still find love and have an adult relationship.”

 

“Yeah,” he asked sullenly, “how?”

 

“There’s oral sex, toys that you can use to supplement your…”

 

He cut her off with a short bark of bitter laughter. Said, “okay,” casually but with a firmness that told her he wasn’t going to be listening to her anymore about any of that.

 

She nodded, letting him off the hook because she had no other choice, “well I guess that’s the end of our session but I have to speak with you about something big that’s coming up soon for me and how it’s going to affect you.”

 

He was happy that she’d changed the subject, there was nothing more embarrassing than having to talk with a beautiful woman about your problems getting it up, but now he was concerned with whatever she was hinting at, “what is it?”

 

“Well you know I’ve been studying to become a psychiatrist right?”

 

He nodded his assent.

 

“Well I’ve been accepted to Columbia for my doctorate. I’m going to be leaving you soon.”

 

He looked at her, eyes wide with shock and happiness and fear, before smiling, “I’m so happy for you Ms. Noel.”

 

She grinned, “I know you’re worried about the future of your therapy.”

 

Even though he was he waved the idea off, “no, we’ll think about that later, it’s your moment now.”

 

Francine shook her head decisively, “this is your session, not mine. I just wanted to talk to you about who you might want to start seeing after I’m gone. I want to make sure you don’t start sliding backward.”

 

He shrugged, “I trust you. Just refer me to someone and I’ll keep my visits up.”

 

She sighed like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, said, “I’m glad to hear that Dean,” as she wrote a name and number down and handed it over.

 

“His name is Frank Chapman and I’ll speak to him soon to get him up speed on you. You can also call him at anytime if you want to feel him out first.”

 

He folded the paper up and put it in his pocket, smiled at her sadly, “I’m happy your going where you want to in your life but I’m not gonna lie, I’ll miss you.’

 

She laughed lowly, “I’m happy to hear that. I hope I’ve affected your life in a positive way.”

 

“Oh of course,” he said quickly then added, “you should come out with me and Sarah tonight. We’re having our weekly dinner and we can switch it to a goodbye party for you.”

 

She had started shaking her head as soon as the words _you should come out…_ had left his lips, “given the nature of our professional relationship I don’t think it would be appropriate…”

 

“Come on Ms. Noel. You’re not my therapist anymore and pretty soon you’ll be all the way in New York. No one will care if a future psychiatrist and her ex-patient have a drink together.”

 

She shook her head no but he could feel her breaking and pushed, “please. It’ll help me transition over to Frank easier if I can see you off properly,” he knew it was below the belt, and by the look on her face she knew it too, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. She’d helped him through a lot after his return and he wanted to thank her.

 

She bit her lip with an exasperated but happy look, “alright,” she finally consented, “I’ll see you tonight and please call me Francine.”

 

\---

 

He was avoiding her.

 

She hadn’t even considered the idea the first time she’d called and he hadn’t picked up but by the third call and the 8th day she started to suspect maybe something was up.

 

Angel narrowed her eyes and tried to think back to the night of the party when Hart walked in and rubbed her shoulder before continuing on to the fridge.

 

“Did anything weird happen at that party the week before last?”

 

Hart scrunched his brow in thought as she ran her eyes over his sweat dampened t-shirt and shorts, he’d been working out again. She joined him most times but neither one of them did it because they thought of their bodies as a temple so much as a commodity. Something they used to get from place to place, to make them feel good, as something that would eventually begin to break down and betray them.

 

They did it to avoid that ending for as long as possible.

 

“Not that I know of,” he finally answered, “why?”

 

“No reason,” she said quickly, not knowing why she felt the need to keep the truth from him, “I was just curious.”

 

He took a long gulp of water from a bottle of Aquafina as he nodded, “okay then.” They stood at the counter in comfortable silence before he broke it, “Did your friend ever catch up with you that night?”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“You know, that guy you’d been asking after.”

 

When she still looked confused he went on, “dark hair, in a wheel chair…”

 

“Dean!”

 

“Whoever,” he answered quietly after a moment. A strange look graced his face as he looked at her and asked, “what was that?”

 

“What?”

 

“That little jump just now when you said that dudes name and earlier when you acted like you were asking about the party _just because_.”

 

She turned on him quickly when he brought that up and he nodded, “yeah, I noticed.”

 

“It’s nothing,” she said quickly, “really, I was just curious.”

 

He shrugged finally and she went on, “you wanna go out tonight?”

 

“Partying?”

 

She shook her head no, “I’ve been going nuts lately, let’s just do something low key.”

 

“What?”

 

She ran through some possible scenarios before settling on one, “How about _Dino’s_?”

 

“Where?”

 

“It’s this Italian place in town,” she replied as she turned toward the sink and started to wash the few dishes inside of it, “I’ve heard it’s pretty good.”

 

\---

 

They pulled into _Dino’s_ almost at capacity parking lot 10 minutes to seven.

 

Angel got out of the car wearing a thigh length, spaghetti strapped, soft pink dress with wedge heels and watched Hart walk towards her, uncomfortable in a white button down and khakis. He’d wanted to wear blue jeans and a t-shirt and it’d taken all afternoon for her to talk him into dressing up a little. The last time she’d seen him looking this nice was at her grandmother’s funeral, she wanted him to do it more often, to enjoy it.

 

“You look so good.”

 

He blushed, stuck his hands into his pockets and she threaded her arm through his as they walked to the front door. They gave the maitre d their info and sat in the lobby for 20 minutes before following a server to their table. As she walked past the dance floor shiny spokes and dark hair caught her attention from across the room. She stopped short and glanced over.

 

“You coming?”

 

She looked away, nervous, and looked up into his face before she smiled, “yeah.”

 

\---

 

As she walked up to the bar, she was sure now that it was Dean. Angel considered just getting their drinks and going back their table but something in her wanted to confront him, to make him uncomfortable so, without examining why, she walked over and placed her hand on his back, “hey.”

 

He looked up, startled, and didn’t say anything for a second before stuttering, “Angel.”

 

“Yeah, I’m here with a friend. I saw you…”

 

“You gonna introduce me?”

 

She turned and saw a Korean girl about her height with long dark hair, a thin frame and a possessive look, “I’m Sarah.”

She put her hand out and Angel reciprocated, shook the girls hand.

 

“I’m Angel.”

 

They stared at one another with fake smiles for a moment before Dean butted in.

 

“Well our drinks are ready so…”

 

“It was nice to meet you then,” she cut in, “and I’ll see you around Dean.”

 

She turned to walk away when Sarah called out, “would you like to sit with us?”

 

Angel turned back with a smile, “we’d love to.”

 

\---

 

She and Hart walked to their table after she convinced him it would be fun. Dean looked at the couple morosely and introduced them to the table. Both she and he looked at the only available chair before he pulled it out and motioned for her to sit.

 

“We asked for another one,” Dean supplied, “it should be here soon.”

 

Angel laughed, said, “good cause that was almost like that game you have to play in leadership seminars.’

 

At the groups questioning glances she went on, “that one where you have a boat or ship that’s going down and they’re over capacity so you have to argue your case for not being thrown over.”

 

“I love that game,” Sarah said with a smile, "it puts everything in perspective."

 

“I hate it,” Hart contradicted.

 

“Why,” Francine asked, looking genuinely interested.

 

He sat down when his chair was brought over and leaned forward, “It’s just that, if you’re not curing cancer you’re taking up space right? Nobody I’ve ever played that with has deserved to stay on so instead of fighting I’d just let them toss me.”

The table nodded warily and glanced at one another while Angel watched Francine watch him.

 

The waiter, a guy about their age with short brown hair, appeared at her side and they all ordered, spoke about nothing important casually. The weather, movies, subjects that kept them all steadily on safe ground. They spoke of high school and how Angel and Dean had come back into one another’s life

 

Their food arrived and without looking at one another, she and Hart began trading. He got her garlic bread and she took his raspberry vinaigrette. She got the large pepper grinder and spread some over his pasta while he picked the tomatoes from the top of her spaghetti.

 

She looked up from her plate to see the two of the three people with them pointedly looking away and Sarah watching her before asking, “where did you two meet,” with a tight smile.”

 

\---

 

They had, of course, met at a party.

 

She wasn’t really sure you could call it a meeting though, he was sleeping or passed out by the bed and she was running to the bathroom when she tripped over his prone body and almost fell face first into whoever’s house they were at’s glossy dresser top.

 

She’d stopped herself at the last minute by putting her hand out and grabbing the mirror above it, had been almost sure that her wrist was broken, was ready to start yelling before she’d even checked for damage, when she looked down into a pair of the clearest blue eyes she’d ever seen and stopped short.

 

He sat up slowly and looked at her with a smile; years later, he’d tell her that he’d always known she was special. That he’d liked her from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her, and said with a froggy voice, “I’m Hart.”

 

\---

 

She didn’t say any of that though, just looked at her best friend with a smile, “a friends party.”

 

There was an inaudible shift in the group sitting with them that she recognized. Angel had known what the other woman had been trying to tactfully ask: _do you two go out?_ People had never really been able to accept that they were just friends. They had to be boyfriend and girlfriend, fuck buddies, anything other than two people who’d looked at each other and seen themselves.

 

Anything other than two  people who loved one another so much that just _knowing it_ wasn’t good enough sometimes. She could’ve cleared the air but didn’t, she was well past the point of feeling the need to explain her relationships to anyone anymore.

 

She put her hand out instead, “wanna dance Hart?”

 

He smiled back, lost in the same memories, “always Angel.”

 

\---

 

Everyone at the table watched them glide to the floor and start to move against one another like they’d been trained, loose and easy. No false starts, no trying to keep up with their partner, no limbs accidently connecting, just full bodied movements to something slow and jazzy.

 

Sarah excused herself to the bathroom, breaking whatever spell the couples movements had cast on the people they’d left behind.

 

Francine watched her disappear around a corner before she leaned forward with an inscrutable look, “so that’s Angel then?”

 

He licked his lips and nodded, “That’s Angel.”

 

Dean picked at his chicken alfredo and fought with himself over what he wanted to ask her before giving into it, “what do you think?”

 

Their eyes went back to the dance floor and she said, “as a friend,” quietly as their eyes took in the two of them swaying together on the dance floor. Harts thigh insinuated itself between Angel's legs and she leaned her upper body away from him into a low dip.

 

He tore his gaze away with a breath and noticed the eyes of the people around them following the two of them as well. He’d almost forgotten his question when she answered.

 

“I’d watch myself if I were you,” she replied, staring at the dance floor, “you’ve got a live one.”

 

\---

 

“Well that was fun.”

 

Dean looked at Sarah with a smile and hugged her. They’d finished dinner about 15 minutes ago and the group had broken apart. He walked her to her door and, before he could lose his nerve, asked, “can I…,” while his hand hovered over her stomach. She hesitated and he was about to take the question back when she smiled a little.

 

“Okay.”

 

He let his hand linger above the taut surface of her stomach before making contact softly. When she’d walked up to their table earlier he’d studied her, searched for any sign of a rounded stomach, a waddling walk, anything that would signify she was pregnant and could find none.

 

He could now though.

 

He ran his hand over her slightly convex belly and placed his head against it without a thought for asking permission. She gasped but he ignored it and listened for any sign of the life inside of her.

 

“I’m only four months, she doesn’t really kick yet.”

 

He looked up with bright eyes, “it’s a she?”

 

Sarah looked chagrined over what had obviously been a slip of the tongue but happy as well, “yes, I haven’t been able to tell anyone. James doesn’t want to…”

 

She stopped short when she mentioned her husband’s name and Dean pulled away.   When he looked up her entire face seemed like it was on the verge of breaking, like there were so many things she wanted to tell him.

 

She reached down and touched the curve of his cheek. He leaned into her caress as she whispered, “Dean…” lowly like it was a question.

 

He closed his eyes and soaked her touch up before backing away.

 

The time for that was long past.

 

He opened her door and said, “I’ll see you Sarah.”

 

She pulled her purse against her body and settled into the drivers seat, "about Angel..."

 

"Goodbye," he cut in and she sat there for a moment too long before before starting the engine and driving away. He watched her with a feeling he couldn’t describe. Something like regret but not quite.

 

Dean waited until she exited the parking lot and made his way back up to the front door of the restaurant to wait for Francine when he spotted her standing at the curb with Hart. He stopped short, wished he could hear, but settled on trying to read their body language instead.

 

He was leaning into her saying something with a sly look on his face. A face that screamed: _Man on the Make!_ He expected Francine to see this as well and it seemed like she did. Her upper body was oriented away from him but they were still close. She leaned away but wouldn’t step away and her face wore an incredulous smirk.

 

He put his hand out to her and Dean could see the hand at her side twitch before she shook her head slowly and walked away. He watched Hart watch her get into her car and breathed hard with the knowledge he now had and whether or not he should tell Angel. He’d obviously been hitting on her and she’d said they weren’t dating, that they were just friends, but there had to be something more than that.

 

A loud _ohhhh_ broke him out of his reverie and both he and Hart turned to see Angel strutting towards her friend with a big smile. She said something and he grabbed her arm, spun her around and pulled it up behind her back. Dean was rolling towards them before he could consider what he would even be capable of doing to stop the other man when he heard her laughing clear as a bell and stopped.

 

They were horsing around.

 

He tried to bring his breathing under control and watched them playing. Wondered how they could go from the party, to the way they’d danced tonight, to acting like brother and sister now. He wanted to go and talk to Angel about the party, about why he hadn’t been answering her calls, about whatever was happening with them but Hart's presence warned him off.

 

He took one more look at her joyful face before going to his car. He’d call later.

 

\---

 

She laughed and pushed him away before he pulled her back and threw his arm over her shoulder.

 

“So…”

 

“What do I think of him?”

 

“More like how does it feel to get shut down?!”

 

He crossed his arms over his chest, “you win some you lose some now back to you and Dean.”

 

“There is no me and Dean” she replied flippantly, “I don’t know what’s going on with him.”

 

“But you want something to be going on with him?”

 

“I never said that.”

 

He looked at her knowingly and she sighed in defeat, “I don’t know. I just feel…something with him that I don’t with anyone else.”

When he didn’t reply she snuck a peek up at him, “what do you think?”

 

“Honestly, I’m not sure. He’s still going out with his ex and he seems really introverted. You two are just so opposite from one another and he looks like he has a lot of issues. Are you sure you want to take them on?”

 

She opened her mouth to answer when Dean pulled up in front of them on the curb, “are you two waiting for something?”

 

“No,” she replied, moving forward, “we were just talking. We’re going to be on our way back in a minute.”

 

He nodded, opened his mouth to say something before he shut it and started again “well I’ll call you alright?”

 

She started to say alright when she stopped, “actually, Hart’s going to his parents tonight so taking me home would be out of his way. Would you mind driving me instead?”

 

She didn’t know why she’d told him that when Harts family had been dead longer than hers had but she wanted to go with him and just telling him so seemed like a bad idea.

 

“No, of course not” he said quickly and reached over to unlock her door with a wide smile that made her feel good. She got in, looked over to see Hart standing on the curb, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

 

He looked at her with a sigh, said, “I guess I’ll have to,” and she waved goodbye as they drove off.

 

\---

 

It took about 10 minutes before he got up the courage to say, “I’m sorry about not calling you back.”

 

She waved it off, “it’s fine.”

 

“No really.”

 

“Alright,” she said quickly and they lapsed into another silence.

 

He looked at her face as they passed under a streetlight and, since it was dark and quiet and they were alone,  decided to ask a question that had been nagging him since they met, “you never asked me what happened over there.”

 

“Where?”

 

He swallowed, “in Iraq.”

 

She narrowed her eyes, “why would I want to ask you about that?”

 

“Everyone does, everyone did when I first got back.”

 

"I would never do that," she said with certainty, "I don’t need to know those details. You went there, you got hurt, you came back. The only part of that sentence I’m interested in is the last one.”

 

He felt inexplicably touched by that as they passed the _Welcome to Best Wishes!_ sign.

 

“So you just want me to drop you off home then,” he asked even though that’s usually what one did when they gave people rides home. The drive had been comfortable and enlightening though and he wasn’t ready to leave her presence.

 

“How about we go to your place,” she said, staring out the window and he tried to control his suddenly rapid heartbeat.

 

“We can watch a movie or whatever.”

 

“Yes,” he said, wincing at his obvious enthusiasm, “I mean, that would be good.”

 

She turned toward him looking as cool as ever, “well it’s settled then.”

 

\---

 

He tried not to stare at her as her eyes fluttered shut. He knew he should wake her and drive her home but he made no move to do so. They’d gotten to his house about an hour ago and searched On Demand before settling on _The Taking of Pelham 123_. It was decent enough as action flicks go and he’d stopped paying attention almost as soon as she’d laid across his couch with a sigh anyway.

 

He rolled over to a chair in the corner and threw a flannel blanket over her, took one more long look at her face before he shut off the T.V. and went to his room to get ready for bed.

 

\---

 

He’d had this dream many times before.

 

He’d be lying in bed with someone warm and soft beside him, someone who didn’t mind his shortcomings, someone who wanted him in every way. He’d roll over towards her and she’d whisper,

 

“Dean…”

 

His eyes flew open, he was startled to hear a voice, and saw Angel sitting on her feet on the edge of his bed looking at him in a rumpled dress with a sleepy face, “the couch is hurting my back, can I stay in here?”

 

She didn’t wait for him to answer, just climbed over and moved her body into the space between him and the wall. She immediately fell back to sleep but he looked over at her for a moment, speechless and frightened but excited just the same before he took a breath and gently pulled the blanket out from under her and covered her.

 

He rolled to face her, reached his hand out to touch before he froze and let it drop to the bed beside him. He wouldn’t touch her, even innocently, without permission so he let his eyes take in the landscape from her brow, to the curve of her mouth to the hand she had curled up under her head and he let the welcome feel of her  body heat lull him back to sleep.

 

\---

 

He woke up to the fingers of the morning sun forcing their way through his blinds and, for the first time in 3 1/2 years, to the longed for feel of a woman wrapped around him. Since she was still asleep he let himself smile and look down to the top of her head against his chest and the hand she held limply against his heart. He let his eyes wander further down to the thigh she’d thrown over his side and that’s when he noticed  the morning erection that he hadn’t been able to achieve in 5 months.

 

Dean froze; this was just his luck that something like this would happen to him on _this_ day of all days. He was trying to plan his escape when he felt the breath against his chest first stop then change rhythm.

 

She was awake.

 

He didn’t move, heat spreading from his collarbone to his hairline, and at first she didn’t either. They just lay still, trying to anticipate what the other was thinking when she pulled his white T into her fist before she released it and let her hand glide down over his stomach.

 

He hadn’t been very experienced before the accident but he wasn’t stupid. He knew what was about to happen and he knew he should stop her but he didn’t. He couldn’t even bring himself to look down and see what she was doing but just the knowledge that she was touching him was enough. Even though he couldn’t see it, even though couldn’t feel it.

 

He finally opened his eyes and looked down to see her grasping him in a small fist before bringing his gaze back up to her eyes. She hesitated a moment before letting him go and throwing one of her legs over his hips. Now was the time to put a stop to this but then her lips were on his and all the feelings he couldn’t achieve from her touch he realized through her lips. She wasn’t gentle or tentative, she kissed him like a starving man, like maybe she’d been wanting to do this for as long as he had.

 

She bit his lower lip and he opened his mouth in a surprised gasp as she slipped her tongue inside, started to undulate against him like a wave and he was powerless to do anything about it. To try and control the pace, to stop her, or to warn her about what he was no longer capable of doing on command.

 

She pulled away suddenly and sat up, grabbed the hem of her dress and pulled it over her head exposing a gauzy pair of black thong underwear and two perfect breasts.

 

The sight almost made him weaker than her kiss and he knew he was finished denying her when he leaned up and took one into his mouth. He followed the lead of her earlier kiss and didn’t hold back, sucked hard and gently scraped a nipple between his teeth, gloried in her choked response.

 

“Dean…”

 

The way she said his name brought his mind back to the parking lot with Sarah the previous night. To her hand on his face, to all the things they’d always leave unsaid and he pulled back. This wasn’t right.He wasn't ready.

 

She leaned down to kiss him again but he turned his head away.

 

“What is it,” she asked breathless.

 

"We can't do this," he said lowly and she laughed, dragged his hand down her stomach to the warm notch between her thighs, "yes we do."

 

He felt a liquid heat expand in his chest. Was incapable of saying anything and she moved to toward him but this time he pulled away and grabbed her arms, looked up into her face and said, “no,” firmly.

 

She looked back at him, blank faced for a moment, before her mouth fell open with horror and embarrassment. She pulled away from him and covered her mouth.

 

“I’m so sorry,” came out jumbled and almost inaudible but he heard her anyway.

 

He took in her panicked face and realized she thought he was rejecting her instead of stopping something that wasn’t going to end the way she thought it would. He tried to correct her, started to say, “No Angel it’s not like that…”

 

But she was already off the bed and on her knees on the ground beside it tugging her dress back on and he saw one rounded ass cheek before it was quickly covered. She scuttled across the floor before getting to her feet and opening the door but his loud voice stopped her.

 

“You don't understand, Angel don’t! It’s fine really,” he pleaded to her back and she turned toward him slowly to say, “no it isn’t,” before she disappeared through the door and from the house.


	5. Coming Clean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They'd come to an arrangement, not a friendship, and that was too friendly a gesture.

He wanted to call her.

 

Dean needed to explain why he'd done what he'd done, make her understand that it had nothing to do with her and everything to do with him but after the fifth time her phone immediately went to voicemail, he decided to wait a little while and give her the space she obviously needed.

 

He tried to go about the rest of his morning normally, set the coffee maker, put a waffle in the toaster and turned on the stove to make bacon. He'd almost lulled himself into believing it _was_ a normal morning. That he hadn't had a woman in his bed and that he hadn't ruined any chance he'd gained with her in a moment of psychosis.

 

Then, as he was laying his bacon across the sizzling griddle, his cell rang and he lunged toward it so quickly he almost fell from his chair.

 

"Hello?! Hello?!"

 _  
_

_"Dean?"_

 

He could hear a low, feminine voice on the other end of the line and his heart stuttered. "Angel?!"

 

She hesitated before going on. _"No, it's Sarah...Are you all right? Did something happen?"_

 

He took a breath and cleared his throat; put a smile into his voice. "No, everything's good. How's it going?"

 

" _Fine_ ," she said slowly. " _I was-"_

 

"Shit," Dean exclaimed loudly and almost dropped the phone as he rolled to the stove to flip his already burned bacon.  "Oh _fuck_!"

 

" _Dean?"_

 

"What?!?" The line went so quiet after his outburst he almost thought it had gone dead.

 

Then she cleared her throat. " _Nothing, I just...I mean, you hardly ever curse so I was just surprised is all_."

 

He put the phone in his lap and scrubbed his eyes, took a breath and didn't pick it back up until he thought he could speak to her normally.

 _  
_

_"...Okay?"_

 

"Yes, Sarah. Sorry about that but I'm..." He cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder and turned his nose up at the blackened bacon as he put it on his plate. "I'm having a pretty bad morning."

 

" _Oh well, I know about those_ ," she laughed tightly as he he sat his plate on the table and Dean wondered what she wanted to say. He and Sarah hadn't been together for awhile now but he'd been with her long enough to know when she was building herself up to something. Usually, he'd let her get it out in her own time but this wasn't a usual morning.

 

"Is there a reason you called?"

 

It wasn't very polite and there was a slight gasp on the other end of the line at his tone. He should apologize, the Dean _she_ knew would, but he didn't have it in him to try and keep her happy today. Not when his own fledging push for a life had been shot to hell. He plucked the waffle from the toaster, licked some stray syrup off his thumb and waited for her to speak.

 _  
_

_"If I'm keeping you-"_

 

"You're not, you just seem like you have something on your mind."

 

She laughed more naturally this time. " _Am I that obvious?"_

 

"Yes," he replied, beginning to feel relaxed with her again. Like the frigid feeling that appeared when she left and sprung up like a weed since he met Angel, was beginning to thaw. They used to make each other laugh all the time. He started to feel badly for how he'd spoken to her earlier. They were both still figuring out how to make it work. Maybe he should cut her some slack.

 _  
_

_"Well you're right, I called for a reason."_

 

She stopped and he nudged her on. "Yes?"

 _  
_

_"Well, it's just that you usually call to make sure I've gotten in all right after our dinners but you didn't last night..."_

 

There was nothing wrong with what she'd said. Nothing wrong with questioning a friend when they began to act differently but he tensed up. There was another question under what she was asking aloud that he wasn't sure he wanted or needed to discuss with her again.

 

"I guess it just slipped my mind."

 

" _Yeah..."_ The line went quiet as they both waited for the other person to speak up, to apologize because that's mostly what passed as conversations between them these days, someone saying sorry.

 

Sarah finally broke the silence. " _I don't like her Dean_."

 

"Come on-"

 

" _That show_ ," she cut in, almost spitting out the words, " _her and her...friend put on right in front of you last night... You can do better than that_."

 

"No I can't," he replied lowly. "And even if I could, maybe I don't want to."

 

" _Dean_ -"

 

"Stay out of this."

 _  
_

_"I'm trying to help you! Is she why you didn't call?"_

 

You don't have any right! He wanted to scream. You don't have any right to question something that actually makes me happy. To be jealous that I'm finally moving on. He should've said it aloud but he couldn't because he still loved her and he always would. He couldn't hurt her like that even if it was for the best.

 

"Sarah," he said, suddenly exhausted. He couldn't believe that, not too long ago, her calls had been the highlight of his days. "I don't even know where she is and I don't need your help. Just go be happy. Go have your baby and just..." He shook his head. "Just leave me alone."

 

He could hear her speaking as he took the receiver away from his ear and hung it up.

 

\---

 

Dean was half-asleep when a knock on the door woke him up. He glanced at the clock, it read 11.20, before he sat up quickly. Maybe she'd come back. She'd cooled off, seen he'd called and decided to come over and talk.

 

He climbed from his bed into his chair quickly, seriously considered whether he'd have time for a quick shower before he nixed the idea, sprayed on some cologne and popped a mint into his mouth instead. He rolled to the door swiftly, threw it open with a big smile and tried not to be disappointed with who he found standing behind it.

 

"Who were you hoping I was?"

 

Dean rolled back to allow Jeremy entrance and shook his head as he closed it. "No one."

 

"Oh come on," the other man questioned good-naturedly. "You were hoping I was a svelte, brown-skinned goddess named Angel?"

 

"Did you just use ‘svelte' in a sentence-"

 

"-because you're never that happy to see me," Jeremy asked while he moved toward the sofa, sat down, grabbed the remote and clicked the TV on. "What's happening?"

 

He was pouting, he could feel it, but he couldn't do anything about it. "You didn't come over here to ask about me did you?"

 

"I came over to see what's up. We haven't spoken in awhile."

 

Dean clenched his jaw. Ever since coming back, Jeremy made sure to call once a day and, when he didn't answer, the other man would decide to _drop by_ under the guise of hanging out. Dean had been pretty fucked up those first few months, let's be honest, first year or so, after he got discharged but he'd never been an idiot. He knew his friend was calling and stopping by to make sure he hadn't taken a fall or put a gun in his mouth. They both knew it. They just didn't talk about it.

 

"Well what's going with you then? All we've been talking about lately is me."

 

"I had a date yesterday," he said and his tone caught Dean's attention.

 

"Went well then?"

 

Jeremy only shrugged and Dean smiled. His friend was the type of guy who shared every detail of his life even when the person he was talking to would prefer that he didn't. The fact that he was keeping something to himself was interesting.

 

"I want to know what happened with you though."

 

"Why? Is it because you've finally met ‘that special lady'?"

 

Jeremy rolled his eyes. "No, it's because _you've_ finally become interesting. Now what happened? You had dinner with Sarah last night right?"

 

"Yes," he stopped for a moment. "We actually had a fight this morning."

 

"Damn, even Sarah's getting interesting now."

 

Dean gave him a steady look that made Jeremy put his hands up in surrender. "It wouldn't have been about something that happened at dinner last night right," he asked a little too casually. "It wouldn't have pertained to you leaving with a svelte, brown-skinned goddess would it have?"

 

"You are the nosiest person I have ever met in my life."

 

Jeremy smiled big. "How does it feel to be on the tip of everyone's tongue once again?"

 

"Shitty."

 

He shrugged, "such is...oh sorry," he stopped himself and looked to Dean's closed bedroom door. "Should I lower my voice?"

 

Dean looked into his lap before staring toward the TV and trying to change the subject. "Why would you even come over if you thought I had someone here?"

 

"I was just going to pop in and out." He stopped speaking for a moment and when Dean looked back he could practically see a question mark appear over his friend's head.

 

"Why are you talking to _me_ when there's a naked girl in your bed?"

 

Dean looked out the front window and Jeremy sighed loudly. "What happened?"

 

"She came over, we started to kiss and..."

 

"What? She put the brakes on?"

 

"No, she _wanted_ to but..."

 

"But what? What stopped you?"

 

"I started thinking-"

 

"-Why would you do that?-"

 

"-and I just," he looked back to his friend. "It never would have worked out anyway. I mean, I can't...I can't even..."

 

"What?"

 

"I can't-!"

 

"Just say it Dean."

 

"Fuck her! How am I supposed to be with her when I can't even fuck her!"

 

That revelation shocked his boisterous friend into silence. They've never spoken about the extent of his injuries and where he would usually quiet down in shame, he went on.

 

"I was hard but who knows how long that would last. I haven't had an erection in months.  What if it just went away right when we were in the middle of it, what then? What would I say to her?! Oh no," Dean started in a mock serious voice. "It's not you it's my dick. He has a mind of his own-"

 

"All right, all right," Jeremy cut in quickly. "I didn't know, I..." he trailed off for a moment. "Doesn't the army have someone talk to you guys about that when you get back?"

 

Dean waved him off and stared into the distance, arms crossed protectively over his chest. "I had so much on me then and everything with Sarah... I went to one but then we broke up and it just didn't seem worth it anymore."

 

"I understand how you could think that but-"

 

"You understand?"

 

"Yes," Jeremy answered with a raised voice. "I understand how things can seem not to matter when you get back-"

 

"Yeah, I'm sure you do with your partial hearing and your limp. I'm sure you understand exactly what it's like to come back and lose your girlfriend because you can't control your body anymore and you scare her ‘cause you're waking up in the middle of the night screaming."

 

He'd wanted to tell him that for a long time. That he hated him for being able to stand up after something that Dean would probably never beat. For being so lucky. For handing him the short end of the stick.

 

Jeremy stared at him before lowering his voice. "I'm fucked up too, man. I didn't get out of there scot-free. I have nightmares."

 

"Well I'd still give anything to trade my brand of fucked up for yours."

 

"Yeah," he replied with a shrug. "Okay, I get it. I can still walk so you're pissed off at me about that?"

 

"No," Dean said, defeated. All of his bluster and anger disappearing as quickly as it had shown up. "Just jealous."

 

They don't speak about what happened over there. Not the bomb or their injuries and even though neither of them think of themselves as the quintessentially macho ‘mans, man,' they're still men. Talking about their feelings has never been high on their to-do lists. This conversation had been a long time coming.

 

"Can you feel _anything_ ," Jeremy questioned, finally breaking the quiet.

 

"A little but it's nothing like it was."

 

"It'll probably never be like it was so maybe it's better not to think about that," he said in what could have been an unkind tone but wasn't. Dean knew he was just being honest. "Have you spoken to Dr. Noel about it?"

 

He was uncomfortable, Dean could tell, but Jeremy would try to help anyway. It was one of the reasons his bitterness had never been able to ruin their friendship. Why he'd tried so hard for so long to keep it concealed. Jeremy was a truly decent person. He didn't deserve to have to deal with Dean's issues.

 

"She tried but-"

 

"You were embarrassed. I told you to pick a male shrink."

 

"It wasn't just that. I wouldn't have spoken about it with anyone. I wasn't ready."

 

"Well," he finally replied, sounding pragmatic. "I'm not a therapist and I've never been where you are but there are other things. I mean," he threw his hand up in the air, "give her head! She's probably got a toy, use it on her and when you're able, use _that_ ," he motioned to Dean's lap, "too. Just make her feel good."

 

"So," Dean inquired, wanting to smile for the first time that day. "Stop being an asshole is pretty much what your advice boils down to."

 

"Pretty much."

 

He did smile then and so did Jeremy, the air around them clear. "Now can we watch a football game or something? Jesus Christ!"

 

Dean laughed and rolled to position his chair closer to the couch.  Even though he was wrung out from the discussion, he felt lighter than he had in a long time. Jeremy was right. If he wanted Angel he just needed to stop thinking about what he couldn't do and start accepting what he could.

 

He picked up the remote and started flipping through the channels. "Yeah, I think there's one coming on at noon."

 

\---

 

It wasn't the first time Angel had woken up to find herself laying on someone's carpet but it was the first time she sort of felt like shit about it. She got to her feet, almost fell before she straightened up and tried to remember exactly where she was and how she got there.

 

She had a slightly hazy memory of walking into _The Cherry on Top_ for lack of any place better to go and seeing Sam, a guy she sort of knew and another Best Wishes lifer, sitting at the bar. They spoke for a little while and after Chrystal joined them following her early shift, he'd invited the two of them over.

 

She stood still and listened; she could hear them moving around somewhere in the back of the house, before she sat down on the couch with her head in her hands. She felt horrible and, if the reflection in the TV in front of her had been anything to go by, she looked horrible as well.

 

Angel had been doing drugs and running from her issues and ignoring everything in her that hurt for a long time now, but even she knew things were pretty fucked up when you were getting high before one in the afternoon.

 

She heard a door open and looked up to see Chrystal walking from the back and buttoning the top of her jeans. She grabbed her keys from the coffee table at Angel's knees with a smile, unaware of her thoughts.

 

"Ready to go?"

 

\---

 

Chrystal was almost late for her second shift so Angel had the other woman drop her off at the store near her apartment building so she didn't make her friend late. She walked to the back and picked up a freeze pop, knowing the sugar would help to level that shit she'd taken out in her system. She paid in change and was going out of the door, in the process of tearing her lemon bars packaging off, when she walked directly into Sarah Lighten.

 

There was a second, just an insane instant, when she thought if she didn't move she could just walk on by. That they wouldn't have to engage in the awkward ex-girlfriend, new... _whatever_ conversation at all, especially when Angel was already half out of it. Then their eyes met and something crossed Sarah's face that she couldn't read. 

 

"Angel!"

 

"Oh hey," she replied, there was no getting out of it then. They were going to speak. "How are you doing?"

 

"Good, good," she said slowly, dragging her eyes across Angel with a barely distinguishable frown. "How are _you_?"

 

"Just fabulous!" She feigned happily before turning to her side and squeezing out the door. She walked out into the parking lot and called back, "I guess I'll see you then." She was about to cross the street when Sarah called out.

 

"Where's your car?"

 

"Um," Angel gritted her teeth and wished the street wasn't so busy. She didn't want to wait for a red light. "I don't have one right now."

 

She thought that was it until she heard quick footsteps behind her and turned to see the other woman jogging towards her.

 

"Do you need a ride?"

 

This was another one of moments Angel had sometimes. Those times when she had to weigh whether convenience was worth the problems it might raise but it was so hot out there and a part of her, that angry knot inside, wanted a fight, was itching for one actually.

 

She turned toward Sarah with a smile. "Yeah, I'd love a ride."

 

\---

 

Sarah made Angel throw her freeze pop away before she got in and buckle her seatbelt before she started the car. Then they rode in silence. The air between them already too full of that tight, awkward energy acquaintance's had with one another for words to work their way through and Angel was fine with that. Really, she didn't have anything to say to Sarah anyway.

 

"So I spoke to Dean earlier..."

 

"Really," she asked, trying not to sound what she was, interested.

 

"Yeah, so..."

 

Here it comes-, Angel thought.

 

"What's with you two?"

 

-and there it goes.

 

"Maybe you should ask him," Angel said with a roll of her eyes. She'd known this would happen when Sarah offered her a ride. She knew the other woman had ulterior motives and got in anyway. Just like she'd known Dean would be trouble and still gave him her number.  

 

If the drugs and the drinking didn't prove she was self defeating, those two things did.

 

They drove in silence for a few minutes before Sarah spoke again. "If you hurt him-"

 

"Oh don't even start it."

 

"Excuse me?"

 

"I said, don't try it."

 

"What? Don't look out for my friend?"

 

Angel scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. She could just let it go, she _should_ just let it go but something about Sarah and Dean nettled her into going on. "If you say so."

 

"What's that supposed to mean?"

 

"It means I know you," Angel responded flatly.

 

"You don't know me at all."

 

"I know your kind."

 

"Oh, you do?"

 

Angel turned toward her. "Yeah, the type who doesn't want him anymore ‘cause, you know, you can't deal but you still want to control him. It's not even that you like him pouting after you, it's even worse, you think he can't make his own decisions."

 

"Not when it comes to a girl like you."

 

Angel's eyes narrowed. She'd been ‘ _one of those girl'_ all her life and she wouldn't change herself for anything. She just didn't know why it never got easier.

 

"What happened between you two anyway?" Angel asked pointedly, eyes gleaming. "You were all ‘Best Couple' in high school and you were even getting married, right? Then," she added with a flourish of her hand, "nothing. "

 

Sarah held the wheel so tightly he knuckles were white. "Stop it."

 

"Were you scared," Angel went on in a soft voice that almost sounded like she was more interested than out for blood. "Worried he wouldn't be able to fuck you anymore?" She smiled meanly, "believe me, even if it wasn't in working order, his tongue does just fine-"

 

"You can't talk about him like that!"

 

"I can talk about him any way I want, bitch!"

 

She expected screaming, maybe some hair getting pulled leading into a small collision. Sarah pulling the car over and bursting into tears wasn't even on the list of options.

 

Angel watched her: sobbing, face scrunched up with splotches of red. It wasn't an ‘I'll do anything to get out of trouble' or ‘I'm so frustrated' cry. It was an ugly, soul rending, long repressed, uncontrollable _thing_. She could only gaze at the other woman in awe before responding.

 

"What are you doing?"

 

"I'm sorry I...I love him and I just want him to be happy."

 

"Then you should probably let him," Angel responded with a sigh.

 

"I am!"

 

"No, you're really not. Those weekly dinners and the calls...I know you love him but just let him go. For a little while," she amended at Sarah's bewildered look. "Just let him breathe."

 

"I'm trying to it's just that he likes you and I'm scared that you'll hurt him. I'm scared he won't come back from it this time."

 

Angel ran her hand through her hair and looked toward the point in front of them where the road seemed to disappear into the fields on either side of them, remembered his mouth on hers, remembered him pushing her away. "He'd doesn't like me."

 

"Yes," Sarah replied, just as confident as Angel. "He does."

 

She thought of them again and squeezed her hands into fists. "Well, if he did like me, he'd come back from it. If something happened, he'd be just fine and besides," she went, trying not to sound too condescending. "It was a lot more than you that was messing him up then."

 

"I know, but I was a big part of it," Sarah finally got out between gasps for breath and Angel nodded. She considered touching Sarah's shoulder before thinking better and leaving her hand in her lap. They'd come to an arrangement, not a friendship, and that was too friendly a gesture.

 

"You're right. You were a part of it."

 

"I was just...," she started twice before she could finish the rest of her sentence. "I was so scared."

 

Angel didn't know what to say to that so she didn't say anything. She didn't rush her either, just sat in the passenger seat until Sarah pulled herself together and started the car again.

 

"Where do you live," she asked in a froggy voice and after Angel gave her the directions, they didn't speak again for the rest of the drive.

 

\---

 

Dean rolled over and reached for his phone blindly, too engrossed in the game to tear his eyes away. "Hello?"

 

" _She's at home_."

 

"What? Sarah?" He sat up straighter and turned away from Jeremy's curious gaze. "Is that you?"

 

" _Angel,"_ she explained and her voice worried him. " _She's at home._ "

 

He started to ask her how she knew that, ask her why she'd tell him when she didn't approve but all he heard was a dial tone.


	6. The End of the Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm not going to change, you know," she muttered staring out at the trees beyond her porch. "You're not going to love me into a better person."

Angel had just pulled on some sweats and an oversized t-shirt when there was a knock on the door. She sighed and stood still as she listened. The walls of her apartment building were thin and it wouldn't be the first time she'd thought a knock on one of the neighbor's doors was actually on her own. 

 

Whoever was outside knocked again and Angel turned wearily, that was definitely for her. She'd eaten and showered since coming in but she still felt horrible. The last thing she wanted to do was entertain guests. She glanced in the mirror, pulled her scarf off and combed her hair out with her fingers as she made her way out into the living room and opened the door.

 

"Did something happen with Sarah?"

 

She stared at him for a moment, surprised by his presence, before she rolled her eyes and moved so he could come in. "Well hello to you too Dean."

 

"She called and told me you were here," he went on as if she hadn't spoken. "Her voice sounded strange. What happened?"

 

Angel clenched her jaw at his concern for his ex and shut the door silently behind him. "We ran into each other at the store, she gave me a ride here and we...had a chat."

 

"You two spoke?"

 

"That's what _chat_ means isn't it?"

 

"About what," he asked, ignoring her sarcasm.

 _  
_

_I'm scared you'll hurt him. I'm scared that he won't come back from it this time._

 

Angel screwed her eyes shut for a moment before opening them again. "That's between us."

 

"Not if it's about me."

 

She turned back, surprised by the steel in his voice.  By the care he still had for a woman who'd broken his heart.

 

"I can see why you two were together so long."

 

"Huh," he asked, thrown by the shift in their conversation.

 

"She made me buckle my seatbelt before she'd drive me home too."

 

He blushed and everything in her went still. "You love her."

 

"No-"

 

"Yes you do," Angel said, angry and resigned to what was happening all at the same time.

 

"Not like that," he responded quickly and took her hand.

 

"Not anymore anyway."

 

"You sure about that?"

 

Dean took a breath. "When we first broke up I would dream about going over there and winning her back." He ran his thumb over Angel's knuckles. "I don't want that anymore."

 

"Then why are you so curious about what we said? If you're so worried I might've done something to upset her, why don't you go ask her about it?"

 

Dean looked at her with a furrowed brow before understanding flattened it out. "Oh, I didn't mean it like that Angel. I just didn't know you two were friendly and-"

 

"We're not friendly," she cut in. "And how didn't you mean it?"

 

"As if you'd done something to Sarah." He rolled closer and watched her with narrowed eyes as he gingerly took her hand fully between his own. "I wanted to know what she said to _you_."

 

Her eyes suddenly felt hot as she looked down at him and remembered how he used to look in high school. The 6' tall king of Best Wishes had never looked twice at her. To be honest, she wouldn't have been receptive if he had. 

 

"What the fuck are we doing?"

 

"What do you mean?" He asked slowly. "I thought we were...friends."

 

"I don't even know you," she replied blankly. "We grew up together but we never really spoke until two weeks ago." She fell back onto the couch. "Why is this happening? Why now?"

 

He shook his head and shrugged. "Why not now?"

 

"Because this," she motioned between the two of them, "is coming from nowhere. You never spoke to me back in school."

 

"You never spoke to me either Angel," he replied tightly. "That doesn't mean anything to us today. We aren't the same people now as we were back then. "

 

Angel wasn't the type of person who put a lot of energy into her relationships. When something felt off to her, when the other person wanted out, when she got bored, she left. No crying, no begging, no fighting. If something wasn't working, it wasn't working and it would be better for everyone involved if they just moved on.  She didn't understand why she was questioning Dean. She didn't understand why she couldn't stop thinking about him, why he made her feel so fragile.

 

"Are you using me as training wheels or something?" She finally spat out.

 

Dean looked startled by the question. "Excuse me?!"

 

"You know, for practice. Until you're ready to really get back out there?"

 

Dean watched her with wide eyes for a moment before his mouth flattened into a straight line. "What did she say to you?"

 

Angel rested her head in her hands, felt pathetic. "She didn't say anything. I just...I'm fucked up right now."

 

Dean rolled closer and touched the side of her face. They sat quietly until he broke their silence. "Were you going to sleep when I stopped by?"

 

Angel looked down at her sweats and noticed a hole at the knee. "How could you tell?"

 

Dean smiled softly and moved his hand away from her cheek to tug her earlobe playfully before dropping his hand in his lap. Angel felt her heartbeat kick up. "You look tired."

 

"That's a nice way of saying I look beat."

 

He laughed, "No, you're still pretty."

 

He started blushing as she gazed at him but he didn't look away. "I've told you how pretty I think you are?"

 

"No, I don't think so," she replied a little breathlessly. Angel took her clothes off in front of men every day. Someone telling her she was attractive didn't usually affect her but with him, at this moment, it did.

 

"Well I do," he answered, looking a little flustered but standing his ground. "You don't have to tell me what she said if you don't want to either."

 

"Good because I wasn't." Angel stated but softened her voice at the chastened look on his face.  "Don't worry; it wasn't really about you anyway. It was about me and her."

 

He started to say something when Angel yawned and they both laughed. "Excuse me."

 

"It's fine," he put his hand out toward her. "Come on."

 

She took what he offered and let him lead her into her bedroom. She'd done this before, with Hart and a few others, but she was still nervous. "Dean-"

 

He rolled into her bathroom and came back with some Tylenol and a paper cup of tap water. "Take this and go to sleep all right," he cut in. "You can relax with me."

 

She realized he wasn't bringing her in here for _that_ and looked away. Just because he didn't want Sarah anymore didn't mean that he wanted her.  He wanted a friend.  She climbed into bed, let him pull the blanket up to her chin and took the pill.

 

"Aren't you going to ask me what happened?"

 

"When, "he asked, looking confused. "With Sarah?"

 

"No, after I left. Don't you want to know where I was?"

 

He started to crack his knuckles absentmindedly and she knew that he did but he shook his head. "Why would I want to know that? You went away, something happened and you came back. All I care about is the last part."

 

His reworking of her words made the corners of Angel's mouth twitch upwards and he touched her shoulder delicately.  "Why does everything have to be so hard?" She didn't realize she'd said it aloud until he answered.

 

"I think we make things harder than they need to be. Go to sleep all right." He squeezed her arm before moving away. "I'll be here when you wake up."

 

\---

 

When Angel's eyes fluttered open later on, she was lying on her stomach, her room shaded in darkness and Dean was sitting at the side of her bed-biting the edge of his nail.

 

"I heard you moving around in here. I thought..." He let himself trail off as he rolled closer, only stopping when his knees hit her box spring. "I could make you a sandwich."

 

She rubbed her eyes and smiled. "I'd love a sandwich, thank you." She stretched her arms over her head and yawned. "What time is it?"

 

He glanced at his wrist, "Fifteen after six."

 

"Really?" He checked again before nodding, yes.

 

"I can't remember the last time I slept I slept for more than three hours at a time."

 

"That's probably why you were so sleepy."

 

She laughed. Angel rarely found herself in a happy mood and she decided she'd enjoy this while it lasted. "You're probably right."

 

He watched her for a second before turning toward the door, stopping and coming back into the room. "About this morning-"

 

"It's fine," she said quickly and pulled herself up onto her forearms, shook off the cobwebs of sleep as her good mood quickly dissipated. "You don't have to explain yourself to me."

 

"But I do."

 

"No, you don't. You're not interested in that with me and that's okay."

 

"That's not it," he said on a burst of bitter laughter.  "That's definitely not it. Not at all."

 

She studied him before speaking. "But earlier-"

 

"I just..." he looked down into his lap before steeling himself to meet her eyes. "I have..." he stopped again and thought for a second. "After my injury-" he started but she didn't let him finish.

 

"You're interested then?"

 

"Of course," he said like it was obvious. "But Angel-"

 

She pulled him toward her before he could finish, got to her knees and kissed him again. Slower this time and he didn't pull away, just cupped the back of her head and leaned in closer.  She ran her thumb along his temple, slid her tongue the length of the seam of his lips, asking for entrance, and groaned when it was allowed. She only pulled away when the need for oxygen overwhelmed her need for _him_.

 

"Angel," he said lowly, running his hands up and down her arms. "There's things I need to talk to you about first. Things you need to know-"

 

She grabbed the handles of his chair and climbed astride his lap. "Something to do with sex and your injury?"

 

He nodded slowly.

 

"Can you feel anything?"

 

"Yeah, but I don't always get hard. It's not that I don't want it, I do, believe me. I'm just not always in control of that anymore."

 

"So you can feel this?" She rolled her hips forward and he grabbed her waist.

 

"A little."

 

She smiled and got to her knees in front of him. "That's a good place to start then, right?"

 

He didn't answer and she didn't ask again. Angel was sort of flying blind here. After running out this morning she'd made a pledge to try and go slower now. To not sleep with people she liked on the first date, to take her time but she couldn't. Angel didn't see the point of putting off the inevitable and if someone didn't like her the next day because she'd been too _easy_ , well, fuck them. They were the ones with the issue. Not her.

 

She undid his belt buckle and started pulling it through the loops of his jeans. She nudged herself between his knees and undid the top button of his jeans, slinked her hand inside his waistband and outside of his boxers as she unzipped him.

 

"I wouldn't want you to get nicked."

 

He let out a gust of breath and she laughed as she started to tug his pants down. He braced himself on the armrests and lifted his body so she could get them over his hips and she threw them to the side as she looked at him. His lower was pale, paler than what she'd think but he probably never wore shorts anymore. Scars from the shrapnel riddled his thighs and calves and his legs were a bit smaller than the upper half of his body. A word she hadn't used since high school anatomy class floated through her mind: _atrophy_. He started to pull away under her scrutiny but she tugged him back and touched him through his underwear to get his mind off it. To show him that those things didn't bother her because they were a part of him. "Feel that?"

 

His mouth fell half-open as he watched her hand. "Some," he finally said and she slipped her hand inside, grasped him a little tighter than she normally would a lover.

 

"But this is better?"

 

He couldn't even speak then, just nodded his head, yes, and she let him go, ignored his whine for more and started to pull down his boxers. He was half-soft, but she'd been expecting that, around average length and uncut. There was moisture beading up at his tip and she captured it on every down stroke to slick her way. She looked up, expecting to see tightly closed eyes or his gaze glued to her hand but he was staring at her face when she met his eyes and it was too much. She couldn't deal with how raw his face looked right then. Thankful, like she was the only thing in the world he could see.

 

She closed her eyes and bent forward then to take him into her mouth. She didn't try and tease him or make this last or make him beg because she wasn't sure he'd even be capable of feeling it and she wasn't interested in power games, not tonight at least. She sucked him hard, used an edge of teeth on his tip and dragged her nails down his thighs.

 

She could hear him breathing above her as he gripped the back of her head softly and she wondered if he was getting off more on watching her or whatever sensation he was able to glean from her efforts. She hoped he was getting some sort of pleasurable feeling from this but, when she thought about it, Angel didn't really care either way. It didn't matter to her _why_ he liked this as long he did.

 

She sat back on her thighs and, since he wasn't completely hard, she could take most of him in easily. She reached between his legs, gave his balls a strong squeeze and he grabbed her under the forearms. Dean pulled her back up onto his lap, held her against his chest, kissed her like she might disappear at any moment and he had to get his fill _now_. She was so wrapped up in it she almost didn't notice that he was shivering under her hands. Angel didn't think he was entirely comfortable with what she'd been doing and that was okay. They had time now, she'd help him work through it.

 

He held her for a moment without speaking and she let him even though everything in her body needed him to touch her.

 

"Do you have anything?" He asked, breathlessly.

 

"No." she answered, suddenly, all business. "I just got tested and came back clean. I'm on the pill too so-"

 

His face went scarlet and she stopped talking.

 

"Not that, but it's good to know." He added with a smile, obviously edgy. "I meant...a toy or something."

 

Angel leaned forward and rolled her pelvis against his hipbone with a sigh of relief, wrapped her arms around his neck, only half-listening.  "A toy?"

 

"You know..."

 

She pushed herself deeper into the cradle of his hips, all attempts at thoughtfulness thrown out the window and let her head fall to the side, eyes shut.

 

"I do?" She furrowed her brow and pulled one of the hands he had around her waist to her breast. "Touch me."

 

She could hear him breathing again as he cupped her breast and tentatively rolled a nipple between two fingers. She usually liked a rougher touch but there was something tantalizing about the way he put his hands on her: like she was breakable, like she was worthy of protection. Angel wouldn't normally want someone to feel that way about her but when he did it, she didn't feel weak. She felt cared for.

 

He buried his face in the side of her neck before beginning to speak. "I meant a vibrator," he said quickly. "I could use it on you if you wanted."

 

She felt a wave of heat spread through her body at his request, at letting him see her in a way no one else ever had but when he pulled back, Dean didn't seem excited by the prospect. He still had that anxious look on his face and she didn't want him to feel that way with her. She wanted him to relax, to enjoy it as much as she was going to.

 

"Or not," he went on, misinterpreting her quiet. "If that makes you uncomfortable-"

 

She moved his free hand between her legs and tried not to moan at the feel of fingers finally being where she needed them most. "Does this seem like I'm uncomfortable?"

 

His whole face went soft as he touched her, his anxiety seemed to desert him for the moment as he tucked his middle finger between her folds and reached his thumb forward to circle her clit. "Angel..."

 

"I want it to be just us," she whispered damply into the side of his neck, trying not to push herself down onto his hand. She brought her face back to his after catching her breath and even though she knew he would've been happy with either option, his flushed gaze told her that was what he really wanted to hear. "For the first time, I just want you and me."

 

She licked her lips, leaned forward and kissed him again gently. She started to tilt her head for a better angle but he stopped her and cupped her shoulder blade, began to push her onto the bed with a confidence she hadn't seen since she kissed him earlier and started all of this.

 

"Lay back for me."

 

\---

 

To be honest, he was nervous.

 

She hadn't hesitated at his withered lower half, she hadn't gotten upset at his lack of a physiological response, she'd just made him feel good. As good as was possible these days and if he hadn't stopped her when he did Dean was worried he might've done something stupid like cry or ask her to marry him.

 

Either of those would probably be the last thing she wanted to hear.

 

He was still uneasy now too, even though he‘d gotten better at pretending he wasn't. Dean's hands were steady as he pulled her sweats and underwear down over her hips and he watched, glassy eyed, as she took off her top. They'd gotten about this far before but it was different now. He knew he wouldn't back down this time.

 

He circled her thighs and pulled her closer, reached up to palm her breasts, circled her areolas until her nipples pebbled and he could take one between his front teeth. He could see her fist the blanket out of the corner of his eye even though she didn't make a sound and he bit down a little harder. Not enough to hurt her, just enough to show her that he knew.

 

She thrust up against him and he let his hands glide down her body. Her legs were closed and he parted them gently, rested one knee over his shoulder and the other foot against the back of his chair. He could smell her then but he didn't let himself peek. He'd see her soon enough.

 

He kissed down her body slowly, nipped the soft, fleshy part of her lower belly and finally let his palms slide against her inner thighs. She made a sound then, something choked off, and he started to shake. Dean wasn't entirely sure what he's doing right then. He and Sarah had done things in high school and even some stuff after he'd gotten back but he'd bet everything he had that she had more experience than him and it stressed him out.

 

Not because she had a life before she met him, but because he'd only slept with one woman and that had been years ago. If he wasn't careful, the _what-if's_ would eat him up alive but she seemed to like what was happening -the tips of his fingers were coated in her wetness-so he made himself let it go. He'd follow his instincts.

 

He spread her a little wider and she finally relaxed back against the mattress as he leaned forward and took an exploratory lick. Her thighs clenched but she didn't make any noise and so he leaned in again, decided he was going to _pull_ a more vocal reaction out of her if he had to.

 

He stopped lapping then and started sucking, worked first one, then two and finally, three fingers into her body and she couldn't stay quiet anymore. Pushed her hips up at him reached down and grabbed a fist full of his hair for purchase and he groaned against her, wrapped his arms around her thighs, placed his palm against her abdomen and she gasped. Squeezed his head between her knees and came with a full body shudder.

 

Dean smiled against her flesh. He'd done it, he'd made Angel come with only his fingers and his lips and his tongue. He was proud of himself, kept licking until hypersensitivity made her push him away gently. She sat up and kissed him then, even though he still tasted like her, and she moved back and motioned for him to get onto the bed. He pulled himself up next to her and Angel positioned herself in the nook at his side when he was settled in.

 

They nodded off without saying anything. They didn't need to anymore.

 

\---

 

Dean woke up in the middle of the night to find Angel working her hips against his thigh with jerky movements and a hand snaking toward the member between his legs but other than that distraction, it was the best night's sleep he'd gotten in a long while.

 

\---

 

Dean's eyes opened the next day to the smell of coffee brewing and an empty bed. He rubbed his face before he pulled himself up and slowly climbed into his chair. He wanted to take a quick shower but this was an unfamiliar environment and he couldn't think of a worse morning after than falling and having to be driven to the hospital. He looked around the room picked up his jeans, shirt and finally found his boxers on the far side of the dresser. He wiggled into them quickly and went into the bathroom to wipe himself down and gurgle some mouthwash before he rolled out of the room, through the den and into the kitchen.

 

He found her out on her back patio and could barely see the top of her head through the screen door. He wanted to go to her then but he made himself wait, pulled a mug off the drying rack and poured some coffee into it. She'd taken the time to brew it; he'd take the time to drink some. He watched her for a few minutes as he drank and finally left the half-full cup on the table to roll out and join her.

 

He ‘d been prepared to feel slightly awkward with her now that he'd seen her take him into her mouth, now that he knew how wet she got and how warm she was but he didn't feel it and he didn't think she did either even though she didn't turn to greet him. She rested her chin on her fist and he stared at the curve of her neck. He'd almost brought himself to reach out and drag his thumb along tendon there, roll forward so he could take it between blunt teeth but then she started to speak and the moment was lost.

 

"I'm not going to change, you know," she muttered staring out at the trees beyond her porch.  "You're not going to love me into a better person."

 

She turned toward him with a blank face and he didn't know what brought on her melancholy mood but didn't she understand yet? Didn't she see that he'd do anything for her, that he was hers now?

 

"I don't want to," he replied almost reverently. Dean wasn't interested in trying to keep that out of his voice anymore. He wanted her to know. "I don't want to change anything about you."

 

Angel gave Dean a soft look at that, almost like she felt sorry for him, before she got to her feet and moved closer. So close that she blocked out the sun. Until all he could smell was her hair draped around his face and all he could feel were her lips on his and all he could see was her face.

 

 

\-----

 **Begun:** 9/12/2009 **  
**

 **Completed:** 07/19/2010

\-----


	7. Coming Clean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They'd come to an arrangement, not a friendship, and that was too friendly a gesture.

He wanted to call her.

 

Dean needed to explain why he'd done what he'd done, make her understand that it had nothing to do with her and everything to do with him but after the fifth time her phone immediately went to voicemail, he decided to wait a little while and give her the space she obviously needed.  He tried to go about the rest of his morning normally, set the coffee maker, put a waffle in the toaster and turned on the stove to make bacon. He'd almost lulled himself into believing it _was_ a normal morning. That he hadn't had a woman in his bed and that he hadn't ruined any chance he'd gained with her in a moment of psychosis.

 

Then, as he was laying his bacon across the sizzling griddle, his cell rang and he lunged toward it so quickly he almost fell from his chair.

 

"Hello?! Hello?!"

 

 _"Dean?"_

 

He could hear a low, feminine voice on the other end of the line and his heart stuttered. "Angel?!"

 

She hesitated before going on. _"No, it's Sarah...Are you all right? Did something happen?"_

 

He took a breath and cleared his throat; put a smile into his voice. "No, everything's good. How's it going?"

 

" _Fine_ ," she said slowly. " _I was-"_

 

"Shit," Dean exclaimed loudly and almost dropped the phone as he rolled to the stove to flip his already burned bacon.  "Oh _fuck_!"

 

" _Dean?"_

 

"What?!?" The line went so quiet after his outburst he almost thought it had gone dead.

 

Then she cleared her throat. " _Nothing, I just...I mean, you hardly ever curse so I was just surprised is all_."

 

He put the phone in his lap and scrubbed his eyes, took a breath and didn't pick it back up until he thought he could speak to her normally.

 

 _"...Okay?"_

 

"Yes, Sarah. Sorry about that but I'm..." He cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder and turned his nose up at the blackened bacon as he put it on his plate. "I'm having a pretty bad morning."

 

" _Oh well, I know about those_ ," she laughed tightly as he he sat his plate on the table and Dean wondered what she wanted to say. He and Sarah hadn't been together for awhile now but he'd been with her long enough to know when she was building herself up to something. Usually, he'd let her get it out in her own time but this wasn't a usual morning.

 

"Is there a reason you called?"

 

It wasn't very polite and there was a slight gasp on the other end of the line at his tone. He should apologize, the Dean _she_ knew would, but he didn't have it in him to try and keep her happy today. Not when his own fledging push for a life had been shot to hell. He plucked the waffle from the toaster, licked some stray syrup off his thumb and waited for her to speak.

 

 _"If I'm keeping you-"_

 

"You're not, you just seem like you have something on your mind."

 

She laughed more naturally this time. " _Am I that obvious?"_

 

"Yes," he replied, beginning to feel relaxed with her again. Like the frigid feeling that appeared when she left and sprung up like a weed since he met Angel, was beginning to thaw. They used to make each other laugh all the time. He started to feel badly for how he'd spoken to her earlier. They were both still figuring out how to make it work. Maybe he should cut her some slack.

 

 _"Well you're right, I called for a reason."_

 

She stopped and he nudged her on. "Yes?"

 

 _"Well, it's just that you usually call to make sure I've gotten in all right after our dinners but you didn't last night..."_

 

There was nothing wrong with what she'd said. Nothing wrong with questioning a friend when they began to act differently but he tensed up. There was another question under what she was asking aloud that he wasn't sure he wanted or needed to discuss with her again.

 

"I guess it just slipped my mind."

 

" _Yeah..."_ The line went quiet as they both waited for the other person to speak up, to apologize because that's mostly what passed as conversations between them these days, someone saying sorry.

 

Sarah finally broke the silence. " _I don't like her Dean_."

 

"Come on-"

 

" _That show_ ," she cut in, almost spitting out the words, " _her and her...friend put on right in front of you last night... You can do better than that_."

 

"No I can't," he replied lowly. "And even if I could, maybe I don't want to."

 

" _Dean_ -"

 

"Stay out of this."

 

 _"I'm trying to help you! Is she why you didn't call?"_

 

You don't have any right! He wanted to scream. You don't have any right to question something that actually makes me happy. To be jealous that I'm finally moving on. He should've said it aloud but he couldn't because he still loved her and he always would. He couldn't hurt her like that even if it was for the best.

 

"Sarah," he said, suddenly exhausted. He couldn't believe that, not too long ago, her calls had been the highlight of his days. "I don't even know where she is and I don't need your help. Just go be happy. Go have your baby and just..." He shook his head. "Just leave me alone."

 

He could hear her speaking as he took the receiver away from his ear and hung it up.

 

\---

 

Dean was half-asleep when a knock on the door woke him up. He glanced at the clock, it read 11.20, before he sat up quickly. Maybe she'd come back. She'd cooled off, seen he'd called and decided to come over and talk.

 

He climbed from his bed into his chair quickly, seriously considered whether he'd have time for a quick shower before he nixed the idea, sprayed on some cologne and popped a mint into his mouth instead. He rolled to the door swiftly, threw it open with a big smile and tried not to be disappointed with who he found standing behind it.

 

"Who were you hoping I was?"

 

Dean rolled back to allow Jeremy entrance and shook his head as he closed it. "No one."

 

"Oh come on," the other man questioned good-naturedly. "You were hoping I was a svelte, brown-skinned goddess named Angel?"

 

"Did you just use ‘svelte' in a sentence-"

 

"-because you're never that happy to see me," Jeremy asked while he moved toward the sofa, sat down, grabbed the remote and clicked the TV on. "What's happening?"

 

He was pouting, he could feel it, but he couldn't do anything about it. "You didn't come over here to ask about me did you?"

 

"I came over to see what's up. We haven't spoken in awhile."

 

Dean clenched his jaw. Ever since coming back, Jeremy made sure to call once a day and, when he didn't answer, the other man would decide to _drop by_ under the guise of hanging out. Dean had been pretty fucked up those first few months, let's be honest, first year or so, after he got discharged but he'd never been an idiot. He knew his friend was calling and stopping by to make sure he hadn't taken a fall or put a gun in his mouth. They both knew it. They just didn't talk about it.

 

"Well what's going with you then? All we've been talking about lately is me."

 

"I had a date yesterday," he said and his tone caught Dean's attention.

 

"Went well then?"

 

Jeremy only shrugged and Dean smiled. His friend was the type of guy who shared every detail of his life even when the person he was talking to would prefer that he didn't. The fact that he was keeping something to himself was interesting.

 

"I want to know what happened with you though."

 

"Why? Is it because you've finally met ‘that special lady'?"

 

Jeremy rolled his eyes. "No, it's because _you've_ finally become interesting. Now what happened? You had dinner with Sarah last night right?"

 

"Yes," he stopped for a moment. "We actually had a fight this morning."

 

"Damn, even Sarah's getting interesting now."

 

Dean gave him a steady look that made Jeremy put his hands up in surrender. "It wouldn't have been about something that happened at dinner last night right," he asked a little too casually. "It wouldn't have pertained to you leaving with a svelte, brown-skinned goddess would it have?"

 

"You are the nosiest person I have ever met in my life."

 

Jeremy smiled big. "How does it feel to be on the tip of everyone's tongue once again?"

 

"Shitty."

 

He shrugged, "such is...oh sorry," he stopped himself and looked to Dean's closed bedroom door. "Should I lower my voice?"

 

Dean looked into his lap before staring toward the TV and trying to change the subject. "Why would you even come over if you thought I had someone here?"

 

"I was just going to pop in and out." He stopped speaking for a moment and when Dean looked back he could practically see a question mark appear over his friend's head.

 

"Why are you talking to _me_ when there's a naked girl in your bed?"

 

Dean looked out the front window and Jeremy sighed loudly. "What happened?"

 

"She came over, we started to kiss and..."

 

"What? She put the brakes on?"

 

"No, she _wanted_ to but..."

 

"But what? What stopped you?"

 

"I started thinking-"

 

"-Why would you do that?-"

 

"-and I just," he looked back to his friend. "It never would have worked out anyway. I mean, I can't...I can't even..."

 

"What?"

 

"I can't-!"

 

"Just say it Dean."

 

"Fuck her! How am I supposed to be with her when I can't even fuck her!"

 

That revelation shocked his boisterous friend into silence. They've never spoken about the extent of his injuries and where he would usually quiet down in shame, he went on.

 

"I was hard but who knows how long that would last. I haven't had an erection in months.  What if it just went away right when we were in the middle of it, what then? What would I say to her?! Oh no," Dean started in a mock serious voice. "It's not you it's my dick. He has a mind of his own-"

 

"All right, all right," Jeremy cut in quickly. "I didn't know, I..." he trailed off for a moment. "Doesn't the army have someone talk to you guys about that when you get back?"

 

Dean waved him off and stared into the distance, arms crossed protectively over his chest. "I had so much on me then and everything with Sarah... I went to one but then we broke up and it just didn't seem worth it anymore."

 

"I understand how you could think that but-"

 

"You understand?"

 

"Yes," Jeremy answered with a raised voice. "I understand how things can seem not to matter when you get back-"

 

"Yeah, I'm sure you do with your partial hearing and your limp. I'm sure you understand exactly what it's like to come back and lose your girlfriend because you can't control your body anymore and you scare her ‘cause you're waking up in the middle of the night screaming."

 

He'd wanted to tell him that for a long time. That he hated him for being able to stand up after something that Dean would probably never beat. For being so lucky. For handing him the short end of the stick.

 

Jeremy stared at him before lowering his voice. "I'm fucked up too, man. I didn't get out of there scot-free. I have nightmares."

 

"Well I'd still give anything to trade my brand of fucked up for yours."

 

"Yeah," he replied with a shrug. "Okay, I get it. I can still walk so you're pissed off at me about that?"

 

"No," Dean said, defeated. All of his bluster and anger disappearing as quickly as it had shown up. "Just jealous."

 

They don't speak about what happened over there. Not the bomb or their injuries and even though neither of them think of themselves as the quintessentially macho ‘mans, man,' they're still men. Talking about their feelings has never been high on their to-do lists. This conversation had been a long time coming.

 

"Can you feel _anything_ ," Jeremy questioned, finally breaking the quiet.

 

"A little but it's nothing like it was."

 

"It'll probably never be like it was so maybe it's better not to think about that," he said in what could have been an unkind tone but wasn't. Dean knew he was just being honest. "Have you spoken to Dr. Noel about it?"

 

He was uncomfortable, Dean could tell, but Jeremy would try to help anyway. It was one of the reasons his bitterness had never been able to ruin their friendship.  Why he'd tried so hard for so long to keep it concealed. Jeremy was a truly decent person. He didn't deserve to have to deal with Dean's issues.

 

"She tried but-"

 

"You were embarrassed. I told you to pick a male shrink."

 

"It wasn't just that. I wouldn't have spoken about it with anyone. I wasn't ready."

 

"Well," he finally replied, sounding pragmatic. "I'm not a therapist and I've never been where you are but there are other things. I mean," he threw his hand up in the air, "give her head! She's probably got a toy, use it on her and when you're able, use _that_ ," he motioned to Dean's lap, "too. Just make her feel good."

 

"So," Dean inquired, wanting to smile for the first time that day. "Stop being an asshole is pretty much what your advice boils down to."

 

"Pretty much."

 

He did smile then and so did Jeremy, the air around them clear. "Now can we watch a football game or something? Jesus Christ!"

 

Dean laughed and rolled to position his chair closer to the couch.  Even though he was wrung out from the discussion, he felt lighter than he had in a long time. Jeremy was right. If he wanted Angel he just needed to stop thinking about what he couldn't do and start accepting what he could.

 

He picked up the remote and started flipping through the channels. "Yeah, I think there's one coming on at noon."

 

\---

 

It wasn't the first time Angel had woken up to find herself laying on someone's carpet but it was the first time she sort of felt like shit about it. She got to her feet, almost fell before she straightened up and tried to remember exactly where she was and how she got there.

 

She had a slightly hazy memory of walking into _The Cherry on Top_ for lack of any place better to go and seeing Sam, a guy she sort of knew and another Best Wishes lifer, sitting at the bar. They spoke for a little while and after Chrystal joined them following her early shift, he'd invited the two of them over.

 

She stood still and listened; she could hear them moving around somewhere in the back of the house, before she sat down on the couch with her head in her hands. She felt horrible and, if the reflection in the TV in front of her had been anything to go by, she looked horrible as well.

 

Angel had been doing drugs and running from her issues and ignoring everything in her that hurt for a long time now, but even she knew things were pretty fucked up when you were getting high before one in the afternoon.

 

She heard a door open and looked up to see Chrystal walking from the back and buttoning the top of her jeans. She grabbed her keys from the coffee table at Angel's knees with a smile, unaware of her thoughts.

 

"Ready to go?"

 

\---

 

Chrystal was almost late for her second shift so Angel had the other woman drop her off at the store near her apartment building so she didn't make her friend late. She walked to the back and picked up a freeze pop, knowing the sugar would help to level that shit she'd taken out in her system. She paid in change and was going out of the door, in the process of tearing her lemon bars packaging off, when she walked directly into Sarah Lighten.

 

There was a second, just an insane instant, when she thought if she didn't move she could just walk on by. That they wouldn't have to engage in the awkward ex-girlfriend, new... _whatever_ conversation at all, especially when Angel was already half out of it. Then their eyes met and something crossed Sarah's face that she couldn't read. 

 

"Angel!"

 

"Oh hey," she replied, there was no getting out of it then. They were going to speak. "How are you doing?"

 

"Good, good," she said slowly, dragging her eyes across Angel with a barely distinguishable frown. "How are _you_?"

 

"Just fabulous!" She feigned happily before turning to her side and squeezing out the door. She walked out into the parking lot and called back, "I guess I'll see you then." She was about to cross the street when Sarah called out.

 

"Where's your car?"

 

"Um," Angel gritted her teeth and wished the street wasn't so busy. She didn't want to wait for a red light. "I don't have one right now."

 

She thought that was it until she heard quick footsteps behind her and turned to see the other woman jogging towards her.

"Do you need a ride?"

 

This was another one of moments Angel had sometimes. Those times when she had to weigh whether convenience was worth the problems it might raise but it was so hot out there and a part of her, that angry knot inside, wanted a fight, was itching for one actually.

 

She turned toward Sarah with a smile. "Yeah, I'd love a ride."

 

\---

 

Sarah made Angel throw her freeze pop away before she got in and buckle her seatbelt before she started the car. Then they rode in silence. The air between them already too full of that tight, awkward energy acquaintance's had with one another for words to work their way through and Angel was fine with that. Really, she didn't have anything to say to Sarah anyway.

 

"So I spoke to Dean earlier..."

 

"Really," she asked, trying not to sound what she was, interested.

 

"Yeah, so..."

 

Here it comes-, Angel thought.

 

"What's with you two?"

 

-and there it goes.

 

"Maybe you should ask him," Angel said with a roll of her eyes. She'd known this would happen when Sarah offered her a ride. She knew the other woman had ulterior motives and got in anyway. Just like she'd known Dean would be trouble and still gave him her number.  

 

If the drugs and the drinking didn't prove she was self defeating, those two things did.

 

They drove in silence for a few minutes before Sarah spoke again. "If you hurt him-"

 

"Oh don't even start it."

 

"Excuse me?"

 

"I said, don't try it."

 

"What? Don't look out for my friend?"

 

Angel scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. She could just let it go, she _should_ just let it go but something about Sarah and Dean neddled her into going on. "If you say so."

 

"What's that supposed to mean?"

 

"It means I know you," Angel responded flatly.

 

"You don't know me at all."

 

"I know your kind."

 

"Oh, you do?"

 

Angel turned toward her. "Yeah, the type who doesn't want him anymore ‘cause, you know, you can't deal but you still want to control him. It's not even that you like him pouting after you, it's even worse, you think he can't make his own decisions."

 

"Not when it comes to a girl like you."

 

Angel's eyes narrowed. She'd been ‘ _one of those girl'_ all her life and she wouldn't change herself for anything. She just didn't know why it never got any easier.

 

"What happened between you two anyway?" Angel asked pointedly, eyes gleaming. "You were all ‘Best Couple' in high school and you were even getting married, right? Then," she added with a flourish of her hand, "nothing. "

 

Sarah held the wheel so tightly he knuckles were white. "Stop it."

 

"Were you scared," Angel went on in a soft voice that almost sounded like she was more interested than out for blood. "Worried he wouldn't be able to fuck you anymore?" She smiled meanly, "believe me, even if his dick wasn't in working order, his tongue does just fine-"

 

"You can't talk about him like that!"

 

"I can talk about him any way I want, bitch!"

 

She expected screaming, maybe some hair getting pulled leadingthem into a small collision. Sarah pulling the car over and bursting into tears wasn't even on the list of options.

 

Angel watched her: sobbing, face scrunched up with splotches of red. It wasn't an _I'll do anything to get out of trouble_ or an _I'm so frustrated cry_. It was an ugly, soul rending, long repressed, uncontrollable _thing_. She could only gaze at the other woman in awe before responding. "What are you doing?"

 

"I'm sorry I...I love him and I just want him to be happy."

 

"Then you should probably let him," Angel responded with a sigh.

 

"I am!"

 

"No, you're really not. Those weekly dinners and the calls...I know you love him but just let him go. For a little while," she amended at Sarah's bewildered look. "Just let him breathe."

 

"I'm trying to, it's just that he likes you and I'm scared that you'll hurt him. I'm scared he won't come back from it this time."

 

Angel ran her hand through her hair and looked toward the point in front of them where the road seemed to disappear into the fields on either side of them, remembered his mouth on hers, remembered him pushing her away. "He'd doesn't like me."

 

"Yes," Sarah replied, just as confident as Angel. "He does."

 

She thought of them again and squeezed her hands into fists. "Well, if he did like me, he'd come back from it. If something happened, he'd be just fine and besides," she went, trying not to sound too condescending. "It was a lot more than you that was messing him up then."

 

"I know, but I was a big part of it," Sarah finally got out between gasps for breath and Angel nodded. She considered touching Sarah's shoulder before thinking better and leaving her hand in her lap. They'd come to an arrangement, not a friendship, and that was too friendly a gesture.

 

"You're right. You were a part of it."

 

"I was just...," she started twice before she could finish the rest of her sentence. "I was so scared."

 

Angel didn't know what to say to that so she didn't say anything. She didn't rush her either, just sat in the passenger seat until Sarah pulled herself together and started the car again.

 

"Where do you live," she asked in a froggy voice and after Angel gave her the directions, they didn't speak again for the rest of the drive.

 

\---

 

Dean rolled over and reached for his phone blindly, too engrossed in the game to tear his eyes away. "Hello?"

 

" _She's at home_."

 

"What? Sarah?" He sat up straighter and turned away from Jeremy's curious gaze. "Is that you?"

 

" _Angel,"_ she explained and her voice worried him. " _She's at home._ "

 

He started to ask her how she knew that, ask her why she'd tell him when she didn't approve but all he heard was a dial tone.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first complete Original Fic so please be gentle, but honest too. I won't get offended as long as you're not a jerk about it :). I want to thank my beta, ribboninthesky, for helping me slowly work my way through getting this fic looked over and I hope everyone reads, enjoys and replies!


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